Of Death and Discovery
by forestofmyown
Summary: At thirteen, Alexandra Wilson discovered magic - and hurt someone she loves. Three years later she's finally starting her new life at Iris Academy, and magic is just the beginning of what she will experience. She's teaching Sign Language, her roommate sees the future, her new friend is falling for someone dangerous, and she's thinking way too much about a teacher.
1. What Goes Bump in the Halls

**I am so sorry to anyone that originally read this story and enjoyed it just the way it was. My writing style went from past tense to present, and I can't stand past anymore - it's been causing problems for all my ongoing stories. I went through this one since it was the shortest to change the tense, and ended up completely redoing part of the story while I was at it. **

**I've almost got my entire plotline for this series mapped, and it changed up quite a bit since the initial drafts that I posted here. The basics are the same, but there are now new details. I hope you like what I'm doing with it - I'm really, really enjoying it, and I hope you do, too! This is a revamp, though - same base, new edits. So if I missed anything while going over it, let me know and I'll try to fix it.  
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**To my newcomers, you don't have to worry about all that. This story is ready to be read fresh.**

**That being said, this story will address some real life issues that are sensitive, as there is a Deaf character, a transgender character, abusive relationships, and talk of racism and different sexualities (despite it being a relative non-issue in the game). Some, but not all, of these will be rather important themes in the story (at least eventually). I'm trying to follow the game's lighthearted tone with those serious moments still rearing up.**

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><p>It's been three years, and I still dream about it. My nightmares take my trauma, my guilt, and expand upon it in new ways every so often, when I think that, maybe, I'm over it. And standing on the road just down the hill from my new school, about to venture into my new life like I've won some kind of reward, is sickening.<p>

You'd think life would have gotten easier after that old woman had sat me down and explained everything. Thirteen years old, traumatized, and informed that everything I've ever known about the world is wrong. Magic is real, it exists inside me.

And I'd accidentally used it in one petty moment of anger.

I can still see the blood welling against soft, dark skin.

It should have been comforting to know this wasn't unusual. That I'm not alone, that everything would be fine and things like this wouldn't happen again now that I was "in the system," so to speak. And when I turned sixteen, I'd be shipped off to Magic school to learn to control my powers and everything would be okay.

But finding all this out didn't really make anything better. Because until I was sixteen, there wasn't anyone I could talk to about it. And it didn't change what had happened.

I probably would have felt better if I could have practiced with my Magic immediately, formed some sort of illusion of control. But that was out of the question. My Magic is sealed until I arrive at the doors of Iris Academy.

Which is today. After three years of wondering and waiting, living with the knowledge that I hold a dangerous power inside me that I have no control over. I breathe in, knowing the air is no different here than on our farm, but still filled with the certainty that now, here, everything is going to be different. This place is where I belong. A new kind of home.

A place where, hopefully, I can't hurt anyone.

My father's heavy, warm hand settles onto my shoulder, and I turn to face him. He picks it up again to sign while he speaks.

_Are you sure you don't want me to drive you all the way?_

I shake my head. He shifts, backing up next to the truck like he doesn't know what to do with himself.

_It's fine._ I motion back, clearing my throat so that my words can catch up to my hands. _It's not like I have a lot of stuff, and my letter said no vehicles on campus._

_I don't think that's what they meant, honey._

I only smile. He pulls my backpack from the truckbed and holds it out in resignation. It's my only luggage. I'm already wearing my robes, which had come in the mail with the directions on how to get here, requirements, etc. It's a simple outfit, long and gray, with a purple cape and belt. A gold snake is coiled on a medallion that holds my cape in place at the base of my neck, indicative of my dorm.

I have a few casual outfits, my favorite novels, and toiletries in my bag. Iris is a new start for me, and I'm trying to take that as seriously as possible. I do have my diary, though, and inside it is stashed quite a few pictures of my family.

I'm going to miss my Dad, days on the farm trying to outrun the weather while doing chores. I'll miss my mother and casual days in the greenhouse under the light mist of the sprinklers. I'll miss my little sister and her big dreams of being a body builder.

But I'd already made my choice, that day three years ago, and I'm not going back on it. The decision had been hard enough the first time around. I'm not going to reconsider. It's done.

I reach out and take the backpack, slinging it easily onto my shoulder. Then I simply lean forward into my father's already open arms. My dad's embrace is as warm and comforting as ever, a comfort I'm going to miss badly.

We pull away slowly and I try to smile away the tears while my hands speak my mind.

_I love you, Dad._

_I love you, darling._

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><p>The front gates aren't too far up the hill. It's a spacy campus, coated in trees and flowers, surrounded by a thick stone fence. The building itself is tall, three stories with windows and archways everywhere.<p>

There are three dorms for for girls and three for boys. Besides Snake Hall, where I would be, there's the Butterfly Hall, for the more social girls, and Horse Hall, for the sporty types. I figure I'm a Snake because I'm a bit on the strange side—the brochure was a bit sketchy on what qualities the Snake dorm emphasized.

The guys have their own equivalents: Falcons, Wolves, and Toads

The problem is, I didn't know where any of the halls are located, let alone my specific hall. I stop and pull out my letter to check for a map. No luck. Oh well, it can't be that hard. Just follow the flood of girls in purple capes going into the building.

... except there _isn't_ a flood of girls in purple capes going anywhere, let alone the building. Okay then, follow girls in general and ask for directions.

... except there _aren't_ any girls around. The campus is almost bare. It's rather early in the day, after all. Maybe they just aren't arriving yet? So, ask _anyone_ for directions. This is no time to be picky.

I spot a tan kid in a yellow Toad cape, long silver hair cropped around his neck, and step through the gates towards him. There's something odd about him from behind, and I can't quite figure out what it is until I get closer. His hair is sticking up strangely on either side of his head, that's it. ... no, wait ... are those ... ears?

He has fluffy animal ears, just like a dog or a cat. And, giving him a once over, I find a matching tail, fluffy and swaying lightly. I almost missed it because the color was so close to his robes. Wow.

How ... awesome.

He's adorable.

Whoever he is turns around, and comes face to face with me. He looks a little startled, and backs up instinctively. I smile, trying not to show just how amazed I am. If there is anything at all girly about me, it's my love of cute, fluffy animals (I blame my country upbringing). "Hey, I'm looking for the Snake Hall. Do you know where it's at?"

He shakes his head slowly, staring at my now paused hands in confusion. "Sorry, no, I don't."

I can barely register his words. Following his lips are hard, since I'm not familiar with his speech patterns. But his words are simple and obvious from his shaking head.

"Well, thanks anyway." I return, still signing despite him obviously not following.

I get ready to leave him in peace when I notice him glancing about. His nervousness didn't stem from me approaching him, then. "Wait, do you know where your hall is?"

I hit the nail on the head, as he looks immediately abashed and sends his gaze strait to the ground.

"Then we should find someone who does." I smile at him, pointing over my shoulder at the building between sentences. "Want to come with me?"

He seems surprised at me asking, but nods. "Sure."

We keep our distance, he trailing a bit behind me, as we make our way inside. There aren't many people about here either, and it takes a few unsuccessful tries before we find someone who we hope knows what's where. He appears to be a teacher. It's an older man, tall and slim, with dark robes and a pointy hat (just like a Halloween witch).

"Excuse me, sir."

He turns as I come up behind him and tap his forearm, my furry friend trailing after me.

"We are just looking for the dorms. Could you point us to Snake and Toad Halls, please?"

His eyes narrow at my moving hands before moving back to my face. He says something short, something ending with "are you?" but I can't make out the rest.

"Sorry."

I sign, then step back to let the other boy answer. He's staring at the ground again, however, and I'm still lost.

After a few moments, the teacher begins looking annoyed, and I wonder if my companion is speaking at all. Digging into my bag, I pull out the paper pad I had prepared and offer to the teacher with a smile.

He eyes it blankly before taking it and the pen tucked into the binding.

_Freshman? _it reads.

I nod, giving my most polite smile. When it comes to teachers, I'm a shameless suck up. "Yes, sir."

He raises his eyebrows, his frown deepening. _This is the hall to the teachers quarters, and is off limits without special permission._

I frown as well. This doesn't sound like it's going in a good direction. "We're very sorry, sir. We didn't realize."

_Your names?_

"Alexandra Wilson, sir." It takes longer to finger spell than it does to say, but I'm pleasantly surprised when the teacher waits patiently for me to finish. He then hands me back my paper pad and pulls out the large book that had been tucked under his arm and begins flipping through it.

He seems to finally find his page, and pauses. His lips move, and I'm again lost as to what he says.

The teacher scribbles something in his book, then looks past me at my skittish sidekick. The poor kid trembles under his gaze, but the older man just keeps staring at him until he finally sighs and asks a short sentence I understand. "Your name, boy."

The kid looks up and his lips move in answer.

The teacher flips through his pages, obviously trying to find the boy's name. He doesn't say anything when he finally halts, only jots something down again. "Five demerits for each of you."

My body goes stiff.

Having come from a public school, demerits had not been a familiar concept to me before my information packet had come, containing my robes and directions to Iris and all that. Before, detention and bad grades had been my worst concern. Now I'm aware that there are worse things in school than getting on a teacher's bad side. Demerits are bad news. Fifty of them at Iris equals expulsion. Grades don't matter; if your behavior isn't golden, you could be gone in a matter of minutes.

He motions for my paper pad back, and writes, _Did you understand that?_

I nod sadly.

_Next time, you should ask for directions before you end up somewhere you are not wanted. The dorms are back the other way._ He passes me back the paper and without giving us another look, strides off.

He's disappeared down the hall before either of us are able to move again. I glance at my companion, still in shock. "Did that actually just happen?"

He nods, looking grief stricken. He leans his head back and whines something, but I get the gist of his mood without the words.

"I'm so sorry, it's totally my fault. You are just following me. I'll try to find that teacher again later and talk to him, okay? I mean, we did ask for directions before ending up here—plenty of times. No one pointed us in the right direction. It's not our fault."

He nods, looking a bit more hopeful. He then taps my paper pad, and I let him take it with a smile. _That's sounds good. Thank you. Alexandra, right?_

"Lexie." I sign my nickname, but he isn't looking at my hands.

He smiles. _I'm Manuel Arias._

"Alright Manuel-" I pause to see if he corrects my pronunciation, but it seems like I got it right or it doesn't bother him if I'm off. "Let's head back that direction and find those dorms!"

We find the guy's dorm first, and Toad Hall easily after that. No one seemed to mind that a girl is helping a boy move in, as nobody says anything to me, but I still get out of there as quick as I can. Maybe I'm okay around just Manuel, but more students are starting to arrive, and I don't want to get in trouble _again_ in case girls aren't allowed.

I sign my farewell as I say bye. I still can't get how extremely cool Manuel's ears and tail are out of my head, though. I wonder how normal that is. Nobody seemed to pay too much attention to Manuel while we were about; my signing got more weird looks than he did.

I end up wandering alone, taking my time exploring the campus and not worrying about where I'm supposed to be. Everything is beautifully green and decorated with strategically placed plantlife, which I find slightly unnerving. Having everything so neat and trim seems unnatural, and besides that, I've had an aversion to plants since my little incident. Despite finding it nice to be alone and away from people, I make my way back to campus quickly.

Eventually, I find Snake Hall. I'm kind of surprised about how small the dorm room was considering it's supposed to house two people, but it's roomie enough compared to some of the rooms I saw trying to hold three occupants. The two beds—across from each other on either side of the room—and a desk at each head with shelves on top for each of us. Perfectly normal.

Except for all the half-melted black candles, obviously hand-made dolls, hanging strings of garlic cloves, and the wild-haired girl bent over a cauldron bubbling acidly with a strange green, putrid smelling gunk. Her large mane bounces as she moves.

I step closer, eying the cauldron with trepidation.

She flicks her fingers over the liquid, but I don't see anything fall. Something must have, though, because her concoction starts to hiss and smoke. After a few moments, it goes oddly flat, and my new roommate straitens up, crossing her arms.

"Interesting." Without looking up, she reaches out with her left hand, scoops up a small pile of bones from the desk, and shakes them lightly before letting them spill back onto the table. Her head tilts, taking in the results, and then she whirls around to grin at me.

"Brilliant." Bright green eyes shine through the mass of curly black hair, which is pulled back with a purple sweatband that matches our robes. She's shorter than me, curvy and dark skinned, with what I think is definitely a beautiful face. "You must be my spirit sister."

I have no idea what a 'spirit sister' is, if I understood that right, or what she was doing with that potion or the bones. Instantly, I feel a wave of panic. I'm used to being smart, knowing what to do, and this encounter with the unknown, however expected, is doing quite a number on my confidence. Just how ignorant am I? She's a Freshman just like me, how come she knows more already? Is there some potion _I_ should be brewing?

" ... I'm your roommate... " I offer, hoping that this is somewhere near the right track.

She nods, and I can't get over how her hair rustles around with the slightest movement. Her next words are a long jumble, several sentences, and I miss all of it. At least, I hope I'm missing her meaning, because the few words I think I read on her lips are a bit scary. I try to wave her down and then offer up my notebook again. She stares at it curiously, then takes it and smiles as she writes.

_This is a very auspicious occasion. The fates have brought us together here, we must be bound by the lay lines. We should burn some jasmine over animal entrails to commemorate._

Her handwriting is a very pretty, loopy cursive, thin and elegant. Much too beautiful for what it is saying.

"Animal entrails?" I sign slowly, backing away in recoil at the idea. Is this common practice here?

She nods again, and shuffles over to her bed. Bending down, she pulls a large box out from under the bed frame, and I instantly step back, fearing she already has the entrails prepared for her suggestion. But it only contains bits of fabric and spools of thread, a few of which she picks out and sets on her comforter.

She holds up the notebook in front of her so I can read it. _Could you cut me a lock of your hair please?_

I glance warily at her doll collection, which takes up the top shelf of her desk. "Why, can I ask?"

Her smile is almost a grin, but it's softness doesn't match the word. She takes a long moment to scribble down her reply.

_For a doll, of course! I make familiar dolls of all my favorite people. It helps me keep in contact on the spiritual plane. My reading has foretold our closeness, so I should get a head start. You're hair, please?_

"That ... that doesn't give you any sort of ... power over me, does it?"

_Of course it does, that's the point._ She looks away to fiddle with what must be the doll she's piecing together. She seems to have a hard time deciding what colors to use. She turns back to me, smiling, notebook ready. _Don't worry, we're going to be good friends. I'll only use it for luck rituals and such. Trust me, you're going to trust me soon._

Can she really ... see the future? I stare at her, unsure, and swallow nervously. To buy myself a bit of time, I nod and pull off my bag to get my multitool. When I pull it out, I suck in a big breath, cut a lock of my hair off, and hand it gingerly to my strange new roommate.

She takes it and smiles at me kindly, like she understands what a leap of faith this is. Then she turns back to her work, motioning for me to park beside her bed as she begins to sew. She makes sure I'm comfortable beside her and takes frequent breaks between every few stitches to write to me. _I see such pretty colors with you. You shine golden, with swirls of a copper-brown in it that is just a stunning combination. It's unusual, but I like it._

She pulls the two colors she mentioned out of her box to add to my doll. _These aren't quite the right shades, but they'll do. Your eyes are?_ She waits, and I turn my eyes up to her for her to stare at me, then she begins digging in her box again. She holds two blue buttons now, and is stitching them on faster than I thought possible onto the light red ocher fabric of the face. _Blue's a nice accent to all the gold._

Her fingers are thin, nimble and quick. It's nice to watch, soothing. I recall my mom telling me her mother had used to sew, but she'd never gotten into the practice herself. We fall into an easy rhythm of her sewing and writing while I watch and reply aloud, doing my best to keep my signing hands from bumping her as she works.

_I'm Rivera, by the way. Of the Cordina's._

"I'm Alexandra Wilson."

_And your nickname?_

I blink. "How did you know I have a nickname?"

_Girl, I told you—we are gonna be close._

I smile tentatively, finally deciding it best to go with the flow. "It's Lexie."

When Rivera finishes her doll, she leaves the room, hauling out her cauldron to dump the contents. With her gone, I finally set about settling in.

The right bed has yet to be touched, despite the outrageous character and very lived-in feel of Rivera's side of the room. Unpacking takes me all of five minutes: I place my books on the lowest shelf, put my spare clothes into the large bottom drawer, and put my supplies in another drawer.

Before bed, I debate on writing home. But it's only the first day, so it seems like a silly idea. It'd probably be better to write at the end of the week, when I'm more adjusted and actually have something to write about.

With Rivera's help, the loneliness I was waiting for hadn't set in yet. I wonder how long it will be before that happens.


	2. Crime and Punishmet and Kissing Up

**Alexandra's such a kiss-up over-achiever, I'm sure most people wouldn't like her personally lol. She's fun to write though because even though she's opinionated she's rather laid back, and it's a nice balance I think. I'm pretty sure Grabiner was thinking "I can't believe I've met such a positively repulsive student" this entire chapter (hahah!). He really has no idea what to do with her (I'm sure, in game, Lexie would be wracking up the weird points).**

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><p>There's an assembly the next morning, but it's scheduled for nine am—pretty late for what I'm used to. So, at six am, my roommate is still sleeping (she'd stayed up pretty late pouring over a deck of cards that looked ancient ... and blood stained) and I'm laying awake in bed, ready to be up and doing chores, like I had always done.<p>

This is going to take some getting used to.

I don't want to wake Rivera, but at the same time, I can't just keep laying here. I should have brought more books.

Deciding I can't take it any more, I sneak out, quite as I can. I don't really know where I'm going this early, but I have to be up and moving, preferably outside.

It's a beautiful morning, with a light fog on the ground and a pale blue sky. The air's fresh, and there isn't a soul about. Besides the strange new setting, it really feel like I'm home. The trees, the flowers, the breeze—I could get used to this.

But still, the careful positioning of the trees and unnatural, handmade flower beds unnerve me, and I keep to the path that steers clear of them, wishing for something more ... wild. Instead, I walk off the path and leisurely stroll about, taking my time to admire the school building. The outer walls are done in a gray stone, slightly coarse and cool to the touch. The columns are a bit different, whiter and smoother. There's a brown lining between the levels, but I can't reach it to feel it. I figure it would be about like the archways at the front, which are plated in something similar to slate.

I think about heading inside and exploring the floors, but that teacher from yesterday comes to mind, and I dismiss the thought. What if I end up somewhere I'm not supposed to be again?

I sigh, looking up longingly at the sky. I'm willing to bet it would be amazing to lay on the roof, just gazing up at the endless blue and watching the clouds drift past.

Shrugging, I push the idea to the back of my mind for later consideration. For now, I have to make do with the outdoors, which was fine by me. By the time I make my way back to the dorm room to prepare for the assembly, I have amassed a small rock collection that I'm rather pleased with. I line the stones up along the shelf of my desk.

Rivera is apparently a late riser, but a fast dresser. When it finally registers to her what time it is, she's up up up! She has her hair pulled back, her robes on, and a coat of dark green makeup painted in place within minutes. Makeup was too much trouble on a farm where you would sweat most of it off, so I'd never developed the habit of wearing it, but Rivera's amazingly quick application of her 'face' has me watching quietly in admiration.

Just as quickly as she'd arose, she's ready to be gone, and she's taking me with her. Rivera leaves the room with a lighthearted laugh and smile that gives the illusion we'd been friends forever, and not the barely twenty hours it has actually been.

Herded like cattle, we join the group of Freshman gathered in the gym. An older woman in the teacher's black cape and a soft pink robe steps up onto the stage. She has kind green eyes, wavy red hair, and a black pointy hat just like the other teacher had—except hers has a purple flower sticking out of it. All in all, the effect is much more inviting.

I try to get Rivera to shuffle around the edge of the room to the front with me, but the witch starts speaking and my roommate holds out the paper pad in front of her and writes the speech as it goes. Pleasantly surprised, I stop trying to get closer and settle against the wall instead, as far from the huge group of people as possible.

_Hello, my little flower buds!_ is her opening line. I'm cringing closer to the wall before she even gets to her name (it's Potsdam). She's one of those sweet, happy, peppy people who loves everyone and everything, I can tell even through just the written word. People like that, so different from myself, unnerve me. I feel like I'm being drowned by their enthusiasm, that my existence is merely a shadow in comparison to the light they give off. Even if she isn't talking just to me, or maybe because I'm only one of many, I start to feel small.

Beside me, Rivera pays close attention, her face unusually serious from what I've seen so far. I'm suddenly very glad she isn't the same kind of person as this teacher. Rivera may be smiles and friendliness, but she does it in such a way that she feels ... like an aunt, I suppose. Or like a big sister should feel.

I realize I've zoned out, and try to turn my attention back to the paper.

Professor (as the teachers here are apparently called) Potsdam starts talking about the "colors" of Magic, which confuses me, but after a moment, "colors" suddenly don't matter anymore.

Something she says slaps me right in the face.

_-Green is the color of life, and the world of plants and animals-_

I let the rest of her speech go fuzzy on the page. I know I shouldn't let it bother me, but I make the connection instantly. I can't help but feel my mood plummet and the guilt rise up.

It had stuck with me, in the back of my mind, every since my thirteenth birthday, and now I knew what it was. Green Magic. I'd used some kind of Green Magic that day.

My Magic, my lack of control, could have gotten my sister killed. I'd realized more than ever before that ignorance could be deadly. It's one of the reasons I've dedicated myself so much to the pursuit of knowledge. I'd always been a bookworm, but after I turned thirteen I'd practically abandoned a social life and instead buried myself in my schoolwork, waiting for the day I'd be here.

I try to refocus on Professor Potsdam's words. She's talking about schedules. Apparently, we get to pick out own classes. That should be pretty cool, I tell myself, but my forced enthusiasm falls flat.

I try to remember what she'd said about our classes, but I just keep thinking back to Green Magic. I know what I _should_ do: I _should_ sign up for Green Magic classes. Obviously, since that's what I used naturally, I needed to learn to control it. I _know _that, but ...

_Blue is the color of transformation and change,_ Potsdam had said before moving on to Green. I like the sound of that. Change is why I'm here, isn't it? I want a new start at a new school in a new world where Magic is normal. I want change in my life right now. I want to make a transformation. I didn't want to take the easy way out, to let my magic and my memories to be erased and have life go back to being "simple" and "easy" and "normal" again. I'd known then that my magic was apart of me, and I couldn't just sever that part of me because I was afraid.

I inwardly sigh. I know I'm running now, despite having made the decision not to run from my magic three years ago. I'm scared. I don't _want_ to use Green Magic again. At least, not just yet. Maybe when I've studied a bit more, and am more comfortable with Magic. But right now, it just scares me too much. Memories of living plants moving like snakes, binding like tentacles, have haunted by nightmares for years. I'm not ready to purposely bring my nightmares to life again. To have my senses assaulted because I'd amplified them. To be able to manipulate nature and use it, to hurt someone else ...

I can't really remember what else Potsdam had said, so after the assembly I go ahead and jot Blue classes down for the whole week. Rivera doesn't ask what I'm taking, doesn't try to force her friendship on me and insist we take the same classes, and I'm grateful. If she keeps this up, then she'll be right—we will be good friends.

I probably should try all the classes, sample them to see what each is like, but I stare at the week of Blue Magic classes on my schedule and find myself feeling calmer. Maybe I'll try something different next week, but I think it'll be best to focus on one type of Magic at a time. Switching back and forth when you're just starting just doesn't seem like a good idea. Best to concentrate on one, get the hang of it, before I try something else.

I'm looking forward to the chance to learn to change things in my life.

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><p>I show up early for my first class, stepping up to the teacher's desk. I gulp when he looks up. He's the teacher who Manuel and I ran into on our first day. I want to ask about the demerits then, but I'll have time for that after class. Instead, I launch into my immediate concerns.<p>

"Can I help you?" He asks. "Do I need to write this down?"

"That would be very helpful, but I can follow some of what most people say. It's hard, though. Writing would be a lot easier in class, sir, so I don't miss anything. That's what I wanted to ask you about."

"I see." He opens a drawer and pulls a piece of chalk from it. Tapping it against the chalkboard, he releases the piece. It remains in mid air, tip pressed against the board. When he speaks, it begins writing furiously, stiffly print-like penmanship taking down his words.

_I assume this will be acceptable?_

I watch the chalk move with wonder. "Yes, sir."

_Have you considered magical healing?_

I look away from the board, brows furrowed. "For what?"

His eyebrows rise. _Your deafness._

"Why would I need my deafness healed, sir?"

He seems to note my tone and shifts curiously. _Why wouldn't you? It's standard procedure in the magical community to heal such disabilities, whether when discovered in Wildseed children or at any point in the life of a child from a magical family. With such magic at our disposal, why should any child or adult be subjected to such an unnecessary reduction of their quality of life? I'm honestly surprised you weren't healed when you were orientated into the magical world._

There's an anger and a shame that comes with being told something like this. Like, here it is. This is how people see me, see my life. As something less. Something to be fixed. And I want to explain, so much so that everything inside me hurts, I want to explain so badly that there is so much wrong there, and I can't find the words. I can't find anything. I just feel insulted and hurt and mocked and degraded. I feel like throwing up.

He's staring at me. I can feel my argument bubbling inside me, fighting to get out, but my mouth feels sealed shut, and my hands are frozen in front of me, dead weight.

Finally, I manage to speak my mind. Just one sentence, each word steeped in nerves, slow to escape, but it's important to be that it's out of me, somehow.

Professor Grabiner watches my hands until they stop, and then looks me in the eyes with a hard gaze I don't understand until I glance at the board. _Did you just insult me, Miss Wilson?_

"No, sir." I reply, swallowing. I decide another track. "Do you know any other languages, sir?"

_Yes._

"Then you know how hard it is to learn a second language. Or a third. I think it's weird that you say I'm disabled and subject to a lesser quality of life when I'm bilingual, too, when most kids in America aren't. My deafness has opened me up to more learning, not hindered me."

_An interesting point, however-_ He stops, silent, and I'm rooted in place, trying not to blink because my eyes feel like they're burning. After a moment, closes his eyes and murmurs. The board reads _I've insulted you._

I wave my fist, nodding along with the motion. My throat is locked again.

_You do not wish to have your hearing magically repaired._

I bring my three fingers together twice.

_A lack of hearing ability could be dangerous, Miss Wilson. Magic is not all pretty lights and playful spellwork. Our world comes with monsters and misfires and the malicious._

"Still." I manage that one word along with the sign.

_Repairing your hearing-_

"Not repairing. Changing. Changing my whole life. Mine. _I_ choose the changes in my life, sir. I accepted magic, and I accept it will change my future. It's an _addition_. I'm not going to take away something that has been a part of me and shaped my life and the way I process the world since I was a child, that has made me _me_. I love my language and I love the quiet and I love how different music is for me from the way hearing people describe it and I love how close it made my family when my stepmom learned to sign for us and brought up my baby sister signing and I didn't really get to be a part of the Deaf community growing up but I loved what I was involved in and I'm proud of who I am and everything that comes with it. I will not just erase this entire part of my life and who I am for someone else's idea of _convenience_."

I have to take a deep breath after I finish, and my hands are almost shaking. I know just from the feeling in my mouth that my words had become sloppy partway through, the kind of thick accent that used to get me teased as a child. That makes it hurt worse.

Professor Grabiner narrows his eyes. _Pride is a weakness, Miss Wilson._

"And perfection is impossible and subject to interpretation, so I shouldn't be forced into the mold of the week in it's name." I snap back, then bite my lip. "Sir. There's no such thing as this _normal most_ think 'disabled' people should be. Just what people prefer so they don't have to acknowledge anything else. But I exist. So give me the opportunity to prove I'm not being any more held back by who I am than anyone else and I'll do it."

He does not look impressed. _You're very ignorant and very cynical for a sixteen year old, Miss Wilson._

"I went to public school."

He cracks a smile. More of a smirk, really, and the look is very cruel.

_No one is going to force you to have your hearing healed, Miss Wilson, rest assured. I merely meant to ensure you know the option is open to you should you so choose it, and that you are aware of the very real dangers of this new world you've become a part of._

"Thank you, sir." I reply after a moment, some of the tightness in my chest loosening.

"Very well. I will speak with Professor Potsdam so she is aware of your needs in class."

He closes his eyes momentarily before going back to his work.

I take a seat in the front row and busily prepare my things, not really paying attention to what I'm doing. A million and one thoughts all jumble in my head. Of someone holding me down, a magic wand pressed to my head while I struggle, magic surging through me and suddenly sound bursting all around me, loud and painful and overwhelming and inescapable-

I breathe deeply, pressing my eyes shut. That isn't going to happen. No one is going to "fix" me against my will. I'm safe.

He listened to me. He's worried my decision will cause me problems, but he listened. He said a lot of horrible things, but he listened in the end. I'm safe.

It's hard to swallow. My eyes are all wet. But I'm safe.

* * *

><p>I'm sure my classmates would balk at me for saying so, but Blue Magic class is awesome to me. Our teacher, who I finally learn is Professor Grabiner, is a no-nonsense kind of guy, with a repertoire of sarcasm at his disposal and a penchant for dishing out demerits—as I had already discovered. Despite this, I find him hilarious, and immediately take to the class.<p>

I'm glad I chose Blue Magic. Something Professor Grabiner says during the first lesson really catches me, and I feel hooked. _For a skilled Blue Magician, reality is fluid. All things can be changed._ He goes on to be snarky, of course, but I'm too excited to care. I may have a natural penchant for Green Magic, but I'm fascinated by Blue.

We spend the period going over basic theory and discussing the method of study at Iris. Since schedules are chosen by the students, attendance is pretty erratic and often classmates won't be at the same level at the same time. Thus, most of the period will be independent study facilitated by Professor Grabiner, who will then give individual attention depending on how far along he thinks you are. Obviously, no one is ready for any spell casting on the first day.

When class ends, I stay behind a moment to catch him.

"Professor Grabiner?"

_Something else, Miss Wilson?_ He's organizing his things, and doesn't even glance at me.

"You gave Manuel Arias and I demerits for being in the teacher's corridor yesterday."

He looks up then, lazily, like he honestly doesn't care. _And you're here to complain about the injustice I've caused you, completely ignoring your own actions which directly resulted in your punishment in the first place?_

"No sir, I'm more than willing to accept my punishment." I reply, though my stomach twists nervously in protest. I don't _want_ to be in trouble, but Manuel comes first.

He cocks an eyebrow at me, and I think oddly of Spock from _Star Trek_. I would laugh if I didn't feel so anxious. Professor Grabiner doesn't look like Spock, except maybe his overly serious expression. _Odd. Most students kick and scream and get themselves into more trouble trying to shift the blame elsewhere. What do you want, then?_

"Well, partly to explain, sir. We _did _ask for directions—several times—before we asked you. Everyone we talked to ended up either being in a hurry or a fellow freshman. There weren't any other teachers around. No one helped us." I pause, biting my lip, but when it looks like he's going to reply, I hurry on. "I know that's not an excuse, and neither is ignorance. I just wanted to say that Manuel was lost and so was I, but I told him I'd find out where to go and made him follow me. He would still have been waiting in front of the school for directions if it wasn't for me. Would you please reconsider _his _punishment? I assume responsibility for the whole thing, he shouldn't get in trouble when it was my fault."

Professor Grabiner, evidently eternally frowning unless a student is cowering before him, frowns deeper. _Mr. Arias is responsible for his own actions, Miss Wilson. Despite your claim of 'making' him follow you, it didn't appear you were dragging him about on a leash. I will not withdraw his punishment._

My stomach drops, and I swallow hard. "What about switching his punishment then? Detention instead of demerits?"

_And for yourself, as well, of course?_

I shake my head and snap my three fingers together twice in an emphatic no. "No, I don't care about mine—it's Manuel I'm worried about."

_Self sacrifice. Admirable and deplorable._ He seems to be talking to himself more than to me, and he leans back in his chair, silent and evaluating. Finally, he nods. _I will restore Mr. Arias his merits and he will serve detention in its place—if you will agree to to serve detention along with Mr. Arias, as well as keeping your demerits._

A relieved agreement with out of my mouth instantly, with a little too much enthusiasm. "Done!"

If Mr. Grabiner was the type to roll his eyes, he would have rolled them now. I guess he thought I wouldn't agree, and is disappointed that his suggestion is now official. _'Done,' indeed. I leave informing Mr. Arias of the new arrangements to you then._

Obviously dismissed, I take my leave.

* * *

><p>Too excited to go back to my dorm room, I instead weave through the sea of yellow and grey that is Toad Hall. I remember Manuel's room and knock, waiting patiently but unable to wipe the growing smile off my face. The door slides open and he peers up at me, big brown eyes combined with his ears and tail giving me a whole new perspective on the puppy-dog eyes routine.<p>

"Lexie?" I watch as he sifts through his thoughts for a moment, and then he's smiling just as brightly as I am as he takes a new, blank notepad from me (Rivera doesn't seem like she's going to give the other one back, which is fine by me—I have several). _You talked to that teacher?_

His handwriting is tiny.

"Yep." I grin proudly. "You have detention this weekend, but no demerits. It was the best I could do ... "

I deflate a little, wondering if he's okay with the arrangement. I thought detention over demerits was a great deal, but does he?

He clasps his hands to his chest, almost crushing the notepad before he whips it back out to scribble on. _That's great! Thank you so much, Lexie! I really appreciate it!_

I let out a sigh of relief. "I'm glad! I was worried you'd be upset you had detention now."

_Detention stinks, but it's better than demerits, so thanks again._

"No problem. I'm the one who got you into trouble in the first place. I'm just glad I could at least try to make it right."

Manuel shakes his fuzzy little head, still smiling his cute kid smile. _Don't worry about it. So, see you in detention Saturday?_

"Yeah, see you there."

He hesitates at the door, so I wait, and he turns back to me, frowning. _That teacher-_

"Professor Grabiner." I supply, watching him write upside down.

_He didn't give you too much trouble did he?_

I shake my head. "Nope, he was pretty nice about it. Very practical."

"Really?" He seems surprised. After our encounter with him, I guess that's to be expected.

A few other kids passing by also slow as though to listen. Even Manuel's roommate leans forward from his bed into view.

I suppose Grabiner has a pretty bad reputation, and Manuel and I had seen first hand it was well earned, but I still frown. He isn't a bad person—is anyone, really? We're all only human (for lack of a better expression), and everyone thinks in their own minds that they're doing right. If you try to understand that everyone has their reasons for being who they are and acting the way they do, then it's easy to like people—in general, at least. Of course, I've never met someone so obnoxious I couldn't stand them, but if we're talking about Professor Grabiner, then he really isn't bad at all.

He listened to me, after all, didn't he?

This opinion obviously isn't going to make me friends, however, I'm beginning to see. Good thing friends aren't high on my priorities list. After all, what's the point of even trying to make friends if they're so easy to lose that a simple difference of opinions would matter?

I'm not going to put forth any effort to be friends with someone—with anyone, really. Why should I bother with the effort of making friends when I could end up failing and getting hurt? I don't have much of a choice with Rivera (who am I to fight the natural flow of fate, as she insists our inevitable friendship is?), so do I really need anyone else?

I know it's bad of me. Friendships are only worth the effort you put into them, and frankly I've never put much effort into my friendships and I know it. I had friends as long as my friends wanted to stick around. That was it. The result? The strange roommate Rivera, who's forcing her friendship on me without any assistance on my part. Thus, I have a friend who _wants _to be my friend, and don't have to deal with any extra drama.

It's probably an unhealthy view of friendship, but I'm just not a social person and that's that. If I ever find someone I would actually put an effort into keeping around, it will probably mean I'm in love and should just marry them right then and there.

The notepad is suddenly pressed under my nose.

_Lexie? You okay?_

"Hm?" I blink, coming back to reality. Growing up on a farm where there's a lot of physical labor that doesn't require too much brain-power has left me with a mind that wanders often, and I'm going to have to learn to reign it in now that I'm somewhere new.

Manuel's staring up at me, looking a puzzled. I guess I worried him with my silence and possibly vacant expression. "Sorry, got distracted. Anyway, I'll see you later."

He nods slowly, still looking at me oddly, but that doesn't bother me that much. I wave and leave, heading back to my dorm.

* * *

><p>The first few days of class are mostly typical school stuff with a Magic twist to it. We pour over books, studying theories and uses and horror stories of Magic gone wrong. Professor Grabiner also makes good on his word and has the classroom charmed so he can be heard clearly no matter where I am. And while I find book work a lot more fascinating than most, we are all equally excited when kids start practicing for real. A lot of kids, apparently scared off by Professor Grabiner, stop coming to class after the first day. The few and the brave that stick around, like me, are learning our first spell by Wednesday. It's a rather simple one—Light. Not extremely easy, but I won't call it hard, either. What it really is to me, though, is amazing.<p>

All around the room scattered glowing balls are appearing, small and unstable, but shedding illumination on their casters none the less. It's a sight to behold, and I would love to see it in the dark. Being eager and a certified over-achiever, I'm one of the first to start trying the spell, though I don't manage to master it until halfway through the period.

At first, I try to think about how I'd originally used Green Magic, but I shove the memory from my mind. This isn't like that, wild and new and unintentional. This is being conducted under experienced supervision, after careful study, with every intention of making it happen. It's also a completely different kind of Magic, drawing from different reserves in my body, requiring different thoughts and concentration on my part.

I can't remember ever feeling so proud in my life as that little glowing orb flickers into existence between my hands, floating in the air and casting a small amount of light over me. It isn't warm, like fire, which surprises me. I don't know what I'd been expecting, really, but I'm overcome by the subtle beauty of it.

It really isn't a complicated spell. All around the classroom, my fellow students are creating their own balls of light, some bigger, some smaller, laughing and exclaiming and being told to shut up by the Professor. It really isn't a big deal.

But it's my first intentional spell, and I feel proud and humbled at the same time. This thing has come from me, born from my own unique energy, and exists because of me, for me. It isn't alive, but it might as well be in my eyes. I pull the little light close to my chest, almost cradling it. I can't look away.

I have control. I have created something, on purpose, using my Magic. This is real, it's actually happening. I'm a witch.

A shadow passes over me, and I know who it is without looking. I pass the little light to one hand reflexively so I can sign as I meet Professor Grabiner's evaluative gaze with what I swear is the biggest smile I've ever worn.

"Thank you, sir."

He cocks an eyebrow. "For what?"

I shake the light gently, which flickers in my hand. "For this."

His next sentence is so long I have to look at the board. _I hardly think one passable performance of a Light spell merits thanking._

I laugh a little. "Probably not. But it means a lot to me. This is kinda the first step for me into a new life. You probably get this from a lot of kids from non-magic homes, but still. I wanted to say thank you—for teaching me. For helping me make the first step."

_Have you ever been informed of your shamelessness, Miss Wilson?_

"Yes, sir."

_Then I won't waste my breath. Stop staring at your light and keep practicing._ Without another glance, he strides away. A flick of his hand removes our conversation from the chalkboard.

I slowly close my fingers, snuffing out the light. Concentrating, elated, I begin again.

* * *

><p>I learn two more spells this week, and I'm just as excited about them as I'd been about Light. The class has a bit too much fun with Silence, as a few students keep casting it on each other when someone's trying to talk. A Wolf makes the mistake of casting it on Professor Grabiner mid-terrade, and gets in <em>big<em> trouble. The spell gives me difficulty while I'm partnered up, as my companion (another Wolf) thinks it's amusing to lie to me and say it didn't work even when I get the spell right before Professor Grabiner gives him detention for it. I've never really had a problem hearing myself talk, however, so dishonest classmates becomes a moot point when I start casting the spell on myself.

Truesight proves to be slightly less chaotic, as the Professor sets up an illusion in the room for the few of us who are that far along to try the spell on and no one wants him to decide this is a bad idea and make us do book work. We prove to be on such good behavior that he sets up a spell and doesn't tell us where it is, so we all search around the room until someone finds it. It's extremely fun.

I spend most of my spare time studying up. Any books I can find on Magic, especially Blue Magic, I devour within hours, soaking up as much knowledge as I can. An old tree out back beside the classrooms becomes my spot, where I hoist myself into the branches and sit and read constantly, away from the other students and any distractions. No offense to my roommate, but Rivera talks to herself a lot—or maybe she's talking to someone I just can't see. It's hard to tell with Magic. But the hum of her voice in the background when she's so close gets very irritating very quickly.

On Saturday I decide to actually sleep in, but am woken up anyway by a soft knock at the door. Two envelopes with each of our names on them slide in under the door. As I open mine Rivera grunts, shouts something that sounds like "Parsley!" and then rolls over, still asleep. I leave her envelope on her desk.

It's our allowance. Iris Academy gives us five dollars every weekend for any need we might have. And we receive our money on Saturday because it's Mall day, when the shuttle vans are loaded up to take students into town. I'm honestly not very excited about the idea. I'm not really a mall goer—too many people crowded together way too close with way more sound than I'm used to being able to hear, even without my hearing aids.. But I haven't ever been to this mall, and there might be a bookstore, so I figure next weekend I'll go check it out. Today, however, I have detention to serve.

I arrive a bit early, nervous about the my first detention since ... well, probably since middle school, and _that_ hadn't been my fault. My stomach twists in complaint, obviously as unhappy with my turmoil as I am.

I pick the chair farthest away, facing the door. And I sit there, stock still, waiting.

A few minutes later, the door opens and I boy I don't know steps in. He's wearing an orange cape—a Wolf—and seems as surprised to see me as I am to see him. He smiles brightly after a moment and slumps down in the chair across from me.

He starts to chat animatedly, and I frown and shake my head.

"Sorry, I can't hear you. I'm deaf."

His mouth makes an "oh."

I slide my notebook over to him, and he perks up, getting the hint.

_I'm Donald Danson. What did you do to wind up here?_

I smile and shrug. "Lexie Wilson. I got lost on my first day and Professor Grabiner found me in near the teachers' rooms."

The new boy frowns. _That's not even detention-worthy. I set someone on fire._

He puffs out his chest proudly, putting his hands on his hips and striking a pose.

"On fire? Why would you want to do that?"

_I can do magic. Why not?_

I can only gape at his answer. I still don't understand, but apparently he had fun, and since he looks like a Freshman too, he probably couldn't summon enough fire to really _hurt_ someone, so I guess it's okay. I leave it alone.

Donald leans back so he can watch the door, too, and we sit in silence for a few minutes, until Professor Grabiner steps in. He glances at us each in turn before taking the chair beside Donald. There's a significant amount of space between the two seats. Professor Grabiner probably sits in that spot every time he holds detention.

Without preamble, he motions to me.

"Wait outside."

I step out into the hall.

While I wait, someone taps my arm and I turn to see Manuel beside me, panting. "Am I late?"

"I don't think so. Professor Grabiner's speaking to another kid right now. He told me to wait out here."

We don't have to wait long. I'm fetched back in next, and Donald joins Manuel in the hall, who waves timidly as the door shuts in his face. Professor Grabiner then simply pulls out a folded up piece of paper from one of the cabinets and lets it plop onto the table. I pick it up slowly, unfolding it carefully and smoothing it out on the flat surface. It's a map of the campus, sketched in beautiful pastel pencils. It's also written in a language I don't recognize.

Professor Grabiner picks up my notebook, looking bored. _You will translate the map. Hopefully, your work will result in you retaining some of the locations on campus so that you don't get lost again. You may go when it's complete._

He's delving into the cabinets again by the time I finish, and emerges quickly with a gigantic hardcover, which he sets beside the map. Obviously my key for translating, the task becomes instantly more daunting.

_Please go back out into the hall and send Mr. Arias in._

Placing the dusty volume in my lap and refolding the map, I obey, a tad overwhelmed. My wait in the hall with Donald is brief, and then all three of us are reunited around the table with Professor Grabiner, detention officially in session. The three of us all apparently have different tasks, as Donald seems to be writing an essay and Manuel is pouring over a puzzle of some kind. Our facilitator is immersed in his own piece of literature, so I open up my text to the first chapter and begin reading an overview of the grammatical structure of the symbols I am faced with.

* * *

><p>Two long, thin fingers tap the back of my hand.<p>

I look up to find Professor Grabiner staring at me. I was mid sentence, thoroughly enthralled with what I was reading. As it turns out, this new language is fascinating, and I had found myself immersed in my work quite quickly. I set the book down to free my hands. "Yes, sir?"

_Are you planning to read the entire documentary before you begin your actual assignment?_

I take in the room for the first time in what's probably a very long time. I realize the map is still blank, and that both Donald and Manuel are gone. "Um ... sorry? I'll get to work right away."

_I'd hope so. The index in the back is sufficient for this task. I would have thought you'd have figured that out before now. I do not wish to spend my entire Saturday in this room with you._

"Right, sorry. I just found this really interesting ... " I trail off, aware that he does not care whether I'm interested or not. "I'll get right to work."

"Thrilling." Not looking thrilled in the slightest, Professor Grabiner goes back to his book.

Abashed, I make a note of what page I'm on and the title of the book (in case I can find it in the library and finish) before flipping to the index he'd indicated. It opens with a reference table to make certain symbols easier to classify, and soon enough I have the map done in full (and with a bit of flourish).

"Sir? I'm finished."

"Wonderful." As deadpan as ever, Professor Grabiner closes his book and pulls the map across the table to take a look. _Two obvious mistranslations, but nothing else painfully off mark. And since you've already wasted enough of my time, I'll deem it passable. You may go._

"Um, may I borrow this?" I hold up the translation guide tentatively, still a bit embarrassed about my lack of actual work up till that point. "Or is there a copy in the library?"

Professor Grabiner stares at me blankly for a moment, and I wonder if I've somehow done something to get in trouble again. But he shrugs jots down a reply before standing. _I don't see anyone else needing it any time soon. Take it, take care of it, and return it when your finished. If it is damaged in any way, or if you lose it, you will be responsible for providing funds to replace it._

"Yes sir."

"Go."

"Yes sir."

Outside, I'm unsurprised to find the hall empty. I went pretty overtime with my detention (something I'm sure has happened before with Professor Grabiner dishing out punishments, but probably not ever done deliberately or due to actual interest), and the Saturday bus has already left for town, leaving me to wander a mostly deserted campus; a situation that suits me just fine. I shimmy up my favorite tree and settle in with my borrowed book, and the rest of the day is spent just like that, lost in my nerd-dom.

* * *

><p>Sunday is a day apparently devoid of activity on campus. I find myself using most of the day for studying, just like I had done almost every day that week, and then, realizing how pathetically sad that probably is, sprawled out in the grass and staring up at the sky.<p>

I'm not a person that really "gets bored." I can fascinate myself for hours on end with my own thoughts, and laying around doing nothing is a perfectly acceptable form of recreation in my book. Having grown up on a farm, doing nothing had turned into a luxury. At Iris Academy, doing nothing seems to be what Sunday was invented for.

I decide to use my free time to write home, and eventually head back inside to fulfill this decision. Rivera is standing by the window, making hand motions that for a split second I thought were signs but quickly found indecipherable. She keeps checking them against an open book on her desk. I grin at her, but she doesn't notice. Rivera is super fun to watch at times, and I almost forget about writing my letter as I sit on my bed, fascinated by my roommate's strange antics. She'd informed me earlier in the week that almost all her little rituals were stuff she'd learned back home, and didn't appear to be taught at Iris, so I'm not behind like I'd feared.

The doll she'd made of me has been placed at the center of the doll shelf. The stitch-work itself is nothing special, but the doll is cute, my dark hairs tacked on as bangs with strips of black fabric for the rest ("Yarn just wouldn't do for your hair—too thick. But sting is too thin."). I'd asked if it would bear my Iris uniform, but she'd wrapped the doll in the brown cloth she'd picked on our first meeting, which she said was important somehow.

So now my dusty colored rag-doll self stares down at the two of us with it's blue button eyes, and I have to admit it's rather flattering to have something so cute represent me.

Eventually I get down to business, writing vague stuff about my week. I'm doing good, love it here, miss having chores (my dad will appreciate this, being a similar person), am throwing myself into my school work, etc. I'm not extremely specific. Magic isn't something my family is going to understand, so I don't bother them with it.

I'll mail them tomorrow. I spend the rest of the day buried in my books—fictional ones this time, just to enjoy myself. Later that night, I pen a few pages into my journal, satisfied with my first week at a new life.


	3. The Black Spot

**I really enjoyed Rivera in this chapter. She doesn't do much often, as she and Lexie are practically strangers, but when she does, she's a kick :) I look forward to her and Lexie growing closer. That being said, this chapter makes me laugh so much - especially Lexie's thoughts on Grabiner. I suppose this was supposed to be one of those serious, contemplative events in Lexie's life but ... I enjoy my work too much for her good health.**

* * *

><p>Monday morning we're summoned to another assembly. I would have missed it if not for just catching the tail end of the crowd heading to the gym. I should probably stop leaving my room before the RA comes by in the morning with announcements.<p>

It isn't just Freshman this time, though. A lot of older kids are there, too, and it's one of these students that stands behind the podium on stage. He begins speaking and Rivera is dutifully scrawling down his words without even being asked. The boy introduces himself as William Danson, senior class president. He's smiling and confident, holding himself proudly. He's a Wolf, and very pretty, with dark skin and long, glossy hair that's an almost blue-gray pulled up in a ponytail. He winks as he informs us that this is Freshman Initiation.

That ... doesn't sound good.

The longer William talks, the worse I feel about this. We are ordered to line up and come on stage, one by one, to introduce ourselves. A sufferer of severe stage fright, not to mention already being terrible with crowds, I can feel a growing panic beginning in my gut. I flex my fingers, concentrating on signing while I speak instead of looking out at the crowd. There are several quiet laughs that echo in the gym as I inform my fellow schoolmates that I am deaf, and then a few other things about myself that I don't even remember. After I step down and the last of the Freshman finish up, we are handed a stapled together paper book entitled _The Initiation Handbook_. It lists all the rules as well as all the members of the senior class, complete with black and white photos.

Why do we need a list of the seniors?

My question is soon answered. In the rules, I'm informed we have to memorize the seniors' names, and address them as Lord or Lady such-and-such for the entire week. The list of ridiculous rules goes on: memorize this poem and recite on command, never show our backs to a senior, never be taller than a senior-

I'm appalled by the ludicrousness of it all. There is no way on _earth _I'm going to do all this.

William is back at the podium, but I wave at Rivera not to bother copying him down. Actually, I'm getting kind of ticked. So when a senior steps in front of me, I'm not sure what's going on and really don't care. But seniors are barking orders all around. Kids are being shoved to the ground, and that's the last straw for me. As best I can without getting noticed, I jerk my head towards the door so Rivera knows what's up, and I slip out of the gym.

Having safely escaped, I straiten up and sigh, trying to let my anger out more productively. There's no point in being mad at an event. In fact, I'm sure this was all organized with good intentions, but I'm getting tired of being reminded of how unsocial I am. Do they have to force peer interaction on me at every turn in this school?

I make my way down the hall a bit when Professor Potsdam comes out of nowhere. I'm certain she didn't teleport, but she really surprises me. Guess I'd started zoning out again.

"Alexandra?"

I flinch. I'm so used to being addressed by my nickname that hearing my full name usually means I'm in trouble. Wait, _am_ I in trouble? For skipping Initiation?

I look at her guiltily, unsure.

But Potsdam doesn't seem upset, only a little puzzled. She opens her mouth, shuts it again, and then smiles widely before raising her hand in the air and waving it. _Why aren't you at the gym with the others, dear? Is something the matter? _spells itself out in sparkly fog.

"I just ... " Appalled, I try to search my brain for the right words to get this over quickly, evaluating myself to make sure I'm not about to say something that won't be taken seriously. "I'm not ... well, the social thing just isn't ... and there was a big crowd, and yelling, and it all just seemed like bullying and I know this is supposed to be some kind of ritual bonding thing and it's supposed to be fun and friendly but it's just not my thing so I left."

I take a deep breath, realizing I've been going kind of fast. "Is that okay?"

Potsdam smiles radiantly, and I'm suddenly reminded why I hadn't cared for her. But a teacher smiling is a good thing when you thought you might be in trouble, so I push my bias aside—until the glittery smoke starts rearranging itself. _Certainly! There's no rule that says you absolutely have to participate. Though your fellow students will probably think you odd for refusing. A lot of students worked hard to make this event, and you might hurt some feelings by not participating. But it is completely optional, and if you're uncomfortable with the proceedings then no one is going to force you._

I nod, relieved, but unable to look away from the gaudy lettering. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings, but I'm not going to force myself into a week of servitude to appease a bunch of strangers. I'm glad to be out of this. "Thanks."

_You'd best be off to class then, dearie._

"Yes, ma'am."

With that, Potsdam is off and I'm left alone, something I'm used to and rather like. What worries me is that alone isn't something I can be all the time, and I'm bound to still be subjected to at least witnessing the harassment that will occur the rest of the week. Sighing, I head off to class to find out how right or wrong I'll be.

I discover immediately that things are just as horrible as I had worried it was going to be. Freshman are running around like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to follow orders, whether it's running an errand or stopping whatever they're doing to (I discover quickly) recite that poem or diving down onto their backs so they won't be taller nor have their backs facing a senior when they waltz through. I keep close to the walls, trying to stay as far away from other people as possible.

So far, my plan has been working, and I have escaped the notice of most seniors. Class goes by uneventfully, and I stay hidden up my usual tree until dark. Rivera doesn't seem bothered at all that I had skipped out on Initiation, and is more than happy to tell me about how her experience here is not at all as bad as her middle school days had been back home. Her senior is a Toad named Steve who is apparently just as odd as she is, and addicted to caffeine. She spends every morning the rest of the week fetching him coffee before class, and doing so with a smile. Nothing phases Rivera.

While up my tree on Tuesday, avoiding a group of Seniors who are ambushing Freshman coming out of the building, I spot Manuel, one of the few faces I'm happy to see. I swing down from my branch and land beside him-

-startling him so badly he drops the papers he'd been carrying.

"Lexie!"

"Manuel!" I mimic, laughing. "How are you? Initiation not being too hard on you, is it?"

His smile is as sweet and shy as ever, and he takes my offered notebook quickly. _Things are going fine. My Senior is really nice and hasn't made me do anything hard or weird or embarrassing._

"That's great," I nod, glad he isn't being picked on. Manuel doesn't seem like the type to stand up for himself, and he's such a good kid from what I've seen.

_What about you? How's your Senior?_

"I don't have one."

"What?"

"I'm not participating. I don't really like the social thing, peer bonding and such." I try to keep my distaste out of my voice and face, and Manuel doesn't seem to notice.

_I guess I understand. I think it's kinda fun though._ He grins, then pulls a piece of paper from his mixed up pile while he tries to keep the notebook balanced on his forearm. _Damien—my senior—has got me writing a love letter._

He blushes adorably, passing me the note. It has the beginnings of an admonition of affection scribbled down, with several gushy lines crossed out. Manuel appears excited at his work, despite his coloring and lowered voice. _I've never wrote one before, so it's been a challenge. I've gotten kind of stuck here, see?_

I read the few lines that haven't been crossed out, admiring the cuteness of this entire procedure. Okay, so if I had been a part of Initiation, writing a love letter wouldn't have been so bad.

"Who's it to?"

_It's not really to anyone, I guess. At least, I don't have anyone in mind. Do you have any suggestions?_

Grinning, I take Manuel by his free hand and pull him to the nearest bench. "Oh yes! I love stuff like this."

"Great!"

We sit the note-dotted page down between us on the edge of the smooth stone bench and bend over it together. Over the next half hour, we bounce ideas off each other, laughing at the goofier ones, and laughing off the more embarrassing things that get said. Eventually, we agree on a rather poetic idea that he proposed and I perfected.

_'The soul is like a deep well, hidden beneath the mask that shows the world only what it wants to see, and not what's inside. I want to know those depths, I want to see far deeper than the surface of the mask. I want to know your soul.'_

_That sounds so pretty!_ He replies enthusiastically, admiring the neat cursive he's stenciled across the other page. _And very unique! I bet no one's gotten a love letter like this before! Damien'll love it!_

"I hope so. Good luck, Manuel."

_Thanks again, Lexie!_

* * *

><p>On Wednesday, we learn Farsight, which is yet again abused by the more immature of the class. Guys are trying to use it to see up girls' robes, and when they realize it only works on locations they've already seen, they try flipping up girls' robes instead to get a peak. At least three guys end up in detention over it, on top of demerits. Professor Grabiner is not remotely okay with this kind of behavior, but even his speech on sexual harassment is nothing compared to what happens on Thursday.<p>

There is a piece of paper on his desk when he arrives, and we when he picks it up (gingerly, like he expects it to bite him or there's a particularly unpleasant order coming from it) I spots a kiss mark sealing the envelope shut.

He opens it.

_'The soul is like a deep well, hidden beneath the mask-'_ he began reading aloud. _'-I want to know those depths, I want to see far deeper than the surface of the mask. I want to know your soul.'_

When he finishes, a few kids clap, but they are silenced swiftly by his sweeping gaze. _Would the aspiring poet who penned this little missive care to take credit for their work?_

I gape, mind racing. How did Manuel's letter get to _Professor Grabiner_? And what will happen to him if someone knows it's his?After the trouble I'd gotten the kid into for just being down the wrong hallway, I'd hate to think what will happen if Professor Grabiner has an excuse to punish him again. As much as I'm liking Professor Grabiner, I have no illusions as to how he works.

So I have to do something. Fast.

I'm going to die, I can just feel it. I feel so embarrassed, but I slowly raise my hand anyway. I stare straight ahead, trying to see through Professor Grabiner without actually looking at him.

Things only get worse from there.

_Ah, Miss Wilson. And do you expect me to be flattered by your childish affections?_

I don't even try to argue with him about it. My vocal cords wouldn't work even if I'd wanted to. I sit here and take his berating before receiving ten demerits, detention, and then am dismissed from the room for disturbing his class.

I stand out in the hallway in shock for probably a good half an hour after that. I'd always been made fun of in high school for being what was deemed a "goody-two-shoes"—I'm a teacher's pet who never gets in trouble, who could be found haunting the library and toeing the line, never breaking a rule if I could help it, and getting away with it when I did (because when you barely ever get in trouble and the teachers like you, you get away with stuff when you do get into trouble, something that seemed to blow my classmates' angry minds). I've never had a teacher call me out in the middle of class like that, humiliate me and punish me all in one go. I'm mortified.

I finally recover my senses enough to get out of there before class ends and I'm surrounded by those who'd witnessed my humiliation. I have no idea where to find Manuel, whether he's in class or the dorms, so I hide out in my usual spot. I sit up the tree, out of sight, trying to suppress my horrified feelings, but tears are creeping up now that the shock is wearing off. I try to bury myself in a book instead, and find that the only two I have with me are my Blue Magic text and the magic symbols book I'd borrowed during detention—both painful reminders of Professor Grabiner and his cruel rebuttal.

The tree is helping a bit; a calm reminder of home, a familiar spot surrounded by the beauty of the natural world. But my sanctuary, however private, is still behind the school building and next to the oft-walked gardens, and when classes let out, students flood past in droves. I know the recalling of my humiliation has made it's rounds even without being able to hear what kids are saying as they walk past. When the stranglers disappear, I flee back to my dorm room.

Rivera is there, holding a phial up to the light, evaluating it with one eye closed and the other covered in a strangely decorated monocle. Despite my distress, I'm curious, and sit on my bed to watch.

Some time later, Rivera pauses in the middle of rolling an oddly shaped root in some kind of powdery breading. By then, her experiment (I'm still not sure what it is) has escalated into a combination of Frankenstein's laboratory and the Wicked Witch's brewery. Tests tubes link cauldrons, beakers bubble with concoctions made with powders labeled with animal pictures, not words, and Rivera is back and forth between what I think are French exclamations and Latin chants. She points to the door, and I nod and go open it.

I'm relieved to find it's Manuel, flanked by a tall, pretty-faced blue boy with glorious lengths of purple hair and a set of leathery wings. Someone to (unfairly, I admit) judge people by their appearances, I instantly like him. His wings are _awesome_. Are they real? Can he fly? How cool is it to have blue skin? What kind of shampoo does he use to make his hair that gorgeous? And those wings!

I try to blink away my wonder; it's rude to stare. Manuel is scribbling away at the notebook I'd let him keep when we were writing.

I skim over it, knowing what it will say just from Manuel's distraught face. _-so sorry, Lexie! I heard about what happened—with the love letter, and how you told Grabiner it was yours!_

"I didn't want you to get in trouble again." I manage to reply. I feel my throat getting tight at the sudden reminder of why my day had been terrible. I miss the distraction of Rivera's little world already.

_Thank you. I really appreciate it, Lexie. And I'm so sorry about what happened. But we're gonna get this all cleared up, okay? Damien says he'll go to Grabiner and explain everything. You see, someone stole my love letter!_

I nod, glancing up to the blue guy, who I am now assuming is Damien. He looks as terrible as I feel, picturesque face painted with sympathy. Manuel passes him the notebook. Manuel must have explained earlier, because he doesn't question it and begins writing. _I've never gotten a love letter before, which was why I wanted Manuel to write me one for Initiation. I know it was silly. But I didn't mean for this to happen._

He sighs, looking at me apologetically when I glance up. I quickly return to reading. _You see, I was bragging about getting a love letter to some of the guys in the dorm. Next thing I know, it's gone. I guess someone thought it was funny that someone like me would get a love letter, and decided to take it. And then- _

"Leave it for Professor Grabiner?" I cringe, leaning back against the door frame. "That's terrible. This whole thing is terrible."

And this is why I didn't participate in Freshman Initiation in the first place, I think bitterly. But Manuel and Damien are obviously just as upset as I am, so I keep that to myself and nod. "So what's the plan? Professor Grabiner's not one to really be sympathetic, no matter the reason, I've gathered."

_But he just has to listen to us!_ Manuel almost puts his pen through the paper, he's so upset.

"Us? _I _wrote that letter, remember?" I smile at him, though it probably looks more like a grimace. "You're not a part of this, okay? Me and Damien will go."

"But-"

"It'll be fine, don't worry about it."

I incline my head to Damien, who pats Manuel on the shoulder and speaks to him for a moment. We both smile reassuringly, and Manuel takes a deep breathe, then nods.

"Alright."

Despite our convincing Manuel, I am _not _looking forward to having our little chat with Professor Grabiner, but I'm not about to let Damien go it alone. I'd rather serve my detention than get these two into trouble, as well, but Damien is determined to go and set things right, and thus so am I.

Thankfully, even though class is long over, Professor Grabiner is still around. Damien enters first, and I try my best not to cower behind him in shame. You should never show a predator weakness.

"Professor Grabiner? Can we talk for a minute?"

He looks up from his desk, which is littered with papers, and glances from Damien to me. His eyes narrow slightly, then he goes back to his papers. _I do hope Miss Wilson hasn't recruited you to try and dig her out of the hole she's dug herself, Mister Ramsey._

Damien doesn't seem surprised at the chalkboard automatically writing everything down. I wonder if Professor Grabiner doesn't bother stopping the thing and just lets it record the talking in every class now.

_Actually, it's a bit more complicated than that, sir, and I want to clear things up._

_I take it you ordered her to write the letter?_

Damien and I both gape, shocked that he already knows what had happened—or, at least, what we are planning to tell him had happened.

_Yes sir, I did._ Damien replies quickly.

_And did you think it would be funny to have her give it to me and disrupt my lesson with your petty Freshman Orientation shenanigans?_

_What? No, sir, that's not what happened at all-_

Oh, no wonder Grabiner had been so quick to punish me. He thinks my love confession is a freshman _prank_. Ouch.

_Save your excuses, Mister Ramsey, this happens every year and I'm growing tired of it. It's about time I set an example so that next year's seniors don't decide the same task will be funny again._

He isn't going to let Damien explain? This isn't going well at _all_.

"Sir?" I finally find my voice, and both Damien and Professor Grabiner look at me expectantly. "I'm more than willing to serve my detention, if you want to make an example, but Damien didn't order me to give that letter to you."

Professor Grabiner raises his eyebrows quizzically. _So you decided to declare your love for me of your own accord, did you?_

I blanch. "Ah, no sir, that wasn't-"

_The letter was to me, Professor._ Damien cuts in. _I ordered her to write it to me, but it got stolen._

Professor Grabiner stares at us both for a moment. _And whoever stole this letter decided it would be funny to give it to me and get the two of you in trouble, did they?_

Wow, Professor Grabiner is quick on the uptake. I'm impressed, and growing more and more hopeful by the minute. We might get out of this after all.

_That's what I figure._ Damien agrees, sighing.

_Then I believe I owe you an ... apology, Miss Wilson._

"What?" I reply dumbly, thrown for a bit of a loop that the Professor wants to apologize to me for anything at all. That he even apologizes to anyone. Ever.

_I did not give you a chance to explain your actions, because I believed I already knew the reasons behind them. As I'm sure Mister Ramsey is already aware, it is considered a traditional Initiation 'prank' to order freshmen to proclaim their 'love' for me—the very thought of which fills them with horror._

Seriously? But that's ... just _mean_. Declaring your love for someone as a _joke_? Even someone who's as mean to students as Professor Grabiner doesn't deserve that. After all, he signed up for this job. He's teaching because he wants to, because he has the desire to pass on his knowledge. It's a career that should merit respect from those who inherit his teachings, not cause him to be the butt of ridicule because his way of teaching is harsher than most.

... though, the Professor isn't exactly bad looking. And he's hilariously snarky if you've got a darker sense of humor. I wonder how many real love confessions he's gotten from students that have been chalked up to Initiation pranks.

_Since it was not your intent to disrupt my lessons, I will cancel your detention and return the ten merits I took from you._

Really? That's great! Sure, I'll never have my pride back—he crushed that into little pieces in front of a room full of my peers—but what do I care? I'm back in good standing with my teacher, and am not in trouble anymore!

_And another ten, for having the courage to admit that you had written the letter, and in apology for the lesson you missed out on._

I'm floored. Not only have I gotten my merits back, I've been _rewarded_. Damien looks just as shocked. It's probably the first time in the history of Iris Academy that Professor Grabiner has _rewarded_ a student (okay, so maybe I'm exaggerating, but _dang_! Today should be declared a national holiday)!

"Thank you very much, sir!"

He proceeds to try and reinstate his position as teacher and jerk by giving us a speech about how this doesn't make us 'friends' and that he's just making things right again, but I know I won't be able to see him as just my grumpy teacher again after this. He's a human being too, after all, and he's just shown he's capable of admitting his mistakes, even to kids younger and less intelligent than himself, and being man enough to apologize. It's even possible to talk to him rationally.

As Damien and I leave the classroom, we both just look at each other, dumbstruck. Then we both start grinning, laughing, and slam a high five right there in the hallway. We meet up with Manuel outside the main building, and spill the good news with overlapping exclamations.

It's dark by the time I make it back to my room, and I'm riding a high I've rarely experienced in my life. The giddiness that comes with my relief, combined with the excitement that has been shared between myself and two (count them, TWO) others at our good fortune, has left me with a flood of warmth and happiness that I realize only comes with sharing experiences—both good and bad—with others.

I might just have made friends. I sit on my bed, staring at the ceiling, caught up in the wonder of it. I also try to get a hold on myself. This hope I'm getting up is dangerous. I've tried having friends like this before, in my younger years, and it had blown up in my face. Is that what will happen this time?

Rivera is suddenly uncomfortably close, leaning over me with a full beaker sloshing around a bright green liquid.

"What?"

"Drink it," she says kindly, giving it a wave.

I take it slowly, once again unable to do anything but follow Rivera's confident instructions. I give the beaker a wary look, but gulp it down in one go. It doesn't taste that bad; something nutty stands out. I hand the beaker back.

"So ... what did I just drink?"

_I've been working on it all day,_ she holds up her notebook for me to read before whipping around and sashaying back to her side of the room like that's all that needed saying.

So I just drank that powdered animal gunk from earlier? I rub my eyes, unsure what to make of all this. When I look up again, Rivera is watching me, looking satisfied.

_That's better._

"What is?"

_There was a black spot._

"What?"

_I cleared it up for you. Don't think about it anymore, okay?_

The only thing I'd been thinking about was the possibility that I was setting myself up to get hurt by making friends.

A black spot.

"Okay," I agree. "I won't think about it."

* * *

><p>Friday is a rather uneventful day in Blue Magic class. Professor Grabiner is dutifully back to being sarcastic and spiteful, and I keep to my books the whole hour, taking meticulous notes. Some of the kids around the room snicker, but most already figured my love letter had been an Initiation prank so no one hassles me about it.<p>

It is then I realize that I consider this a 'normal' day. It's my first clue that I'm accepting my new life, getting used to it, setting up a routine and really settling in. And I'm happy with it.

It's also the last day of Freshman Initiation, and I find I'm missing out on something, because after classes all the Seniors and Freshman seem to vanish. I hope whatever is going on is fun, since Rivera, Manuel, Damien, and Steve (who Rivera had taken all of ten seconds to introduce me to the day before) are all gone as well.

The lack of two grades makes the campus much more open, quiet, and relaxing, and I enjoy some time alone in the dorm room before setting out across the grounds to explore. By the time Rivera returns, I'm back in the room, sprawled out with my volume on magical symbols again. We acknowledge each other with nods and, though I suppose I should ask about her day, we settle into companionable silence.

* * *

><p>Saturday morning brings our allowances and the mail. Rivera gets about six letters from home, which I think is excessive and she thinks is about normal, but since I'd just sent my first letter out on Monday, I don't really worry about the fact I haven't got anything.<p>

When it gets close to time to go into town Rivera and I get in line to be loaded into a van with a group of other kids. She sits beside me, but there is a comfortable distance between us and the only interaction we engage in before exiting our transport is when she pats my leg and smiles. I get the feeling she knows something I don't, but then the moment is gone and everyone is piling out into the street.

The mall is small and sparsely populated. With Iris Academy students hopping off the vans, we easily outnumber the normal shoppers.

I keep close to the shop windows, eying the typical stores as I walk by. There's a small bookstore, I soon discover, but there isn't a large selection, and nothing on magic (well, magic as an Iris student knows it. Rivera seems perfectly happy with the fantasy section, though, and we part ways when I decide to continue looking around). There are plenty of places to eat, and an arcade, a gift shop-

When I reach the end of the mall, it appears almost deserted. The one shop is closed, windows dark. I almost turn around, except a slight shimmering around one of the walls catches my eye. As I approach, a second door materializes, a star on the front and the name "Marvelous Magical Accoutrements" written on it.

Guess it makes sense to have a magic store near a magic school, but obviously they have to hide it from normal people. The shoppers here may be used to the Iris uniforms, but I suppose they can't know about magic.

The store isn't very big, but I'm fascinated by what it does have: A pair of normal looking glasses apparently charmed to help you read faster and retain more information, a set of fire proof gloves with elbow pads included, an amulet that helps boost your Black Magic, and wands—real Magic wands, charmed to help you with all the different Magic colors to varying degrees.

Everything is pretty expensive, though, and I've only ten dollars on me. I tell myself to write mom to send me my savings—I'm dying to have some of this stuff. There's a sextant charmed to boost Blue Magic, but it costs $95. I almost cry.

A wand or the protective gear seems like a good idea, but almost anything in the store is going to take some saving up on my part. I'm debating on whether I should go ahead and buy the charmed glasses when I stop dead in front of one of the the displays.

Just like Manuel's, sitting in the glass box is a pair of fuzzy ears and a fluffy tail. The label on the box says "Furry Set" and it's description explains they are charmed—with Green Magic.

I'm immediately torn about the set. The ears and tail are super cute, and I want them. But the $120 price tag and the Green Magic both set me off. That's a lot of money, and a big boost to a Magic I'm not ready to even study yet, let alone use. And would Manuel be offended by fake imitations of his natural body parts?

Sighing, I leave the store with the charmed glasses and an empty wallet. I do like the glasses, though, and begin to smile at my reflection as I pass the other stores on the way back to the vans.

For the rest of the day, I stay in, deciding to get a head start on my studies and maybe do some more writing in my journal. Sunday shows every sign of being spent exactly the same way. I like the regularity of it.

I feel a lot more comfortable here, with these other strange, magical students, than I ever had back at my "normal" high school. Maybe it's just because I had known I was different for the past three years, combined with my natural antisocialness and deafness, that had just pushed other kids my age away.

Manuel, I have to admit, is shaping up to be a potential friend, or at least someone I can hang out with without having to worry about drama, responsibilities, or obligations. He's likable, quiet, but not withdrawn, and he makes me smile without even trying. Definitely a good influence, my mother would say.

As for my roommate ... I wouldn't actually call Rivera my friend yet. Maybe someday, if we hang out more. I'm definitely at ease with her, and I can see us being friends, but we aren't quite there, despite her confidence it will happen someday. I haven't opened up like that to her.

But even if I had, she still wouldn't have compared to my family. As much as I'm enjoying the peace and quiet I'm getting out here, spending my time alone in my studies, I miss them.

My loneliness reminds me painfully of what magic had done to my life when it entered it. It seems like Magic is pushing my family away from me. Is that the price of a life where I finally feel at home and am accepted? Do I have to give up the life I've known? Will they all drift away from me while I'm here at Iris, changing into this new me?

I slam my diary shut, causing Rivera, who's been immersed in her own literature, to look up. I put my stuff away methodically, tidy as I am, and keep my face turned away from Rivera's direction. She doesn't try to get my attention, and I say nothing as I leave.

I chide myself as I shuffle down the halls, wiping my eyes when no one is around. I need to think about something else and stop depressing myself. I head out to the campus grounds, following the pathway as it weaves through the trees and bushes.


	4. Childish Accomplishments

**Lexie's character flows pretty naturally for me, but Rivera requires thought - "what goes on in that girl's head? What would she, with her background, think would be appropriate now?" Maybe I should have made her the main character! Wow, Rivera and Grabiner ... I think I'm fic-ing my own fic ...**

* * *

><p>At school two weeks, and I'm already missing home. I spend the rest of my Sunday tucked up a tree, arms wrapped around my knees and sniffling like a two-year old. I desperately fight a pity party, but it's a losing battle. And soon enough, I have company.<p>

Manuel is at the base of my tree, searching up through the leaves. He spots me, says something I can't here, and I wipe my eyes, push down my misgivings, and climb down. I don't want company right now, but Manuel's face is drawn down in his own distress. Even his fluffy ears are laid flat, further evidence of his negative mood. Tentatively, I ask, "What's up?"

_Damien isn't speaking to me anymore._ He kicks the dirt as he holds up the notebook, and his tail whips behind him, displaying his frustration.

"What happened?"

_I don't know!_ He scribbles, looking miffed. _Everything was fine yesterday. We had a great week, and I know that he hung out with me because it was his job as part of Initiation, but I really thought we'd become friends. But today he just brushed me off._

His shoulders sag, and he sighs. Poor kid, sounds like he's been used up and tossed away.

Unsure what exactly to do to help or reassure him, I wrack my brain for what makes me feel better when I'm down. "Um ... have you been to the library here yet?"

Manuel glances at me, confuses by the change of topic. "What?"

"The library. I haven't been yet, and I've been wanting to go. I was wondering if you wanted to go with me, pick up some books ... hang out?" I add the last part questioningly, wondering if I'm getting my point across.

"Um, I guess?" His reply is slow; he still looks confused.

I shrug. "Books always cheer me up. Better than people, anyway."

"Oh. Okay."

He doesn't look convinced, but he nods. We set off, but he tugs at my sleeve and slips his notebook in front of me.

It reads, _Do you know where the library is? I'd rather not get lost again._

"Yep, Professor Grabiner made me translate a map in detention."

He smiles and makes an addition to the page. _He had me read an essay on the psychology of the mob mentality. It was weird._

True to my word, I get us to the library without a hitch. Manuel and I pour over the selections our magical school has to offer, soaking up the variety and laughing at some of the more absurd titles. He finally settles at a table with a small stack of adventurous fiction, home gardening, and animal care. I leave him to his reading for quite a while, still wandering through the stacks, intrigued by hardbound covers and glossy lettering. When I join him, I possess a modest stack containing more on magic runes and higher level Blue magic applications. By the time they close up, Manuel has checked out several of his books and is smiling happily, clutching the volumes to his chest.

Mission accomplished, we part ways and I head to bed early, only to get up late (for me) on Monday morning. On my way to breakfast, I am accosted by a girl from the Horse Hall. She seems excited about something (don't all Horses?) and it takes several tries before she gets the idea and takes my notebook (I've starting wearing one around my waist on a string threaded through the binding coils, since I haven't needed a backpack) to introduce herself.

_Virginia Danson._

"Like William Danson?"

"Yeah, that's my brother." She grins, obviously proud, and then catches herself and writes what she just said. I don't bother to tell her I caught it the first time—I'd rather her repeat herself than assume I can magically deduce everything she's saying from lip reading.

_I'm sure you know that club signups are this week-_

We have clubs?

_-and I'm making a sports club. I just need enough people to join and it's official! Are you in?_

"Uh ... " I want to say no, I'm not in. I'm not a Horse. Do I look like a Horse? I don't play sports. I'm a Snake. But that would be rude and I'm just in a bad mood because of yesterday's slump. "Sorry, I'm not really interested in sports."

"Are you sure?" She bites her lip and starts writing again. _I just made the club, so we aren't even sure what sport we'll be playing—it's just about exercising and having fun!_

Virginia's smiling ear to ear, obviously pleased with her club. _Signups are on Wednesday in the gym, if you change your mind._

With a wave, she's running off again, pinning someone else down to try and recruit them. Wow, that girl has a lot of energy.

She said she made the club herself, so I begin wondering if I would be able to make my own club. I want to ask—but I don't want to ask Professor Potsdam. Resolving to ask Professor Grabiner, I go ahead and sign up for Blue Magic classes the rest of the week.

I figure I'll go ahead and finish off the month with Blue classes, and then try something else for a month. Red Magic sounds cool. I'm a little uneasy about White Magic, though—with all the talk of the 'spiritual realm' I really don't want to go near it anymore than I do Green Magic, and that's saying something. So while Black Magic doesn't interest me that much—charming items doesn't really sound like my kind of thing—I will probably try it before the other two.

When I step into Professor Grabiner's classroom, I feel a sense of continuity. This is normal, this is what I do. I'm in class, going to listen to the Professor teach, give a few students detention, and generally bite kids' heads off. All apart of my life now. Normal.

My family and even Rivera and Manuel aren't apart of this little section of my life. I don't have time to worry about friend issues or missing my family when I have to concentrate on not getting scolded and learning something new and cool about how to change the world around me. My problems disappear in the classroom.

We learn Darkness today. It's hilarious to watch the students mastering it, because it engulfs the room in pitch black and everyone stumbles around, tripping over things and bumping into each other until Professor Grabiner lights the area again. It's amusing but also unnerving, as that leaves me with two senses down instead of one like everyone else, and it's not nearly as funny. I get through it happening two or three times before I can calm down and laugh about it like everyone else.

After class, I take a moment to ask Professor Grabiner about clubs. He simply passes me a form to fill out and turn back in for approval before signups on Wednesday. I do so quickly and return it to him the next class period.

My week continues like this, with class keeping me on my toes and in relatively high spirits. On Wednesday, I fall in love with our newest spell: Teleport Other. And yes, it's as fun as it sounds. Professor Grabiner says he fully expects this spell to take a few days, as students are starting to fall behind. Completely normal at this stage, apparently, since I seem to be the only constant student in the class. Most switch between other classes and aren't at this level yet.

While the other kids are attempting to teleport random objects (and peers) across the room, I immerse myself in a quieter study. Even after class is over, I plan keep at it. I know the next step after this spell is learning to teleport myself, and I'm extremely excited about the idea. Being able to teleport is fascinating, and I want to master it quickly, and that means going over every safety precaution I can find first.

But my immersion into the art of teleportation can't begin until after club signups. There's a surprising amount of booths set up in the gym, seemingly with no attempt at organization at all. I arrive early to set up my table in a nice, out of the way spot, and wait as the students begin to trickle in. Two guys jump up on stage at one point, apparently advertising for the chorale. I take it they're pretty good from people's reactions. One I recognize after a few moments as that fire boy from detention—oh, another Danson! I knew that name had sounded familiar.

Rivera suddenly appears at my table without me noticing. She signs right up, gives me a smile, and walks away without a word.

I bite my lip and blink rapidly for a few seconds. Gonna be close, huh?

Three more students I don't know sign up: a fellow Snake who stares at me considerately for several minutes before she jots down her name, a pretty, friendly Butterfly who seems honestly enthusiastic about the idea, and sullen looking Wolf who I'm almost certain didn't even look at my sign before wrote down his name and hurried off.

Manuel comes scurrying up close to the deadline, takes a look at my table, and pulls out his notebook. _I didn't know you had your own club, Lexie!_

"Seemed like a good idea." I shrug at the end of my signing.

He eyes the page and then smiles brightly. _I'll join, too! If that's okay._

I smile back, and he scribbles his name onto the paper.

Nobody else stops at the table after that, but I don't mind. People had looked over my flyers, asked me questions, and expressed interest without committing, but five members is already more people than I'd expected. I'm a Freshman nobody offering a club that's more of another mundane class than a fun hobby, after all.

The stress of staying seated in the gym, with it's high ceiling and wide open area, while it is crawling with students, takes it's tool, so when it's time to put up our tables, I work in a rush. Throwing myself into my studies once I'm back in my dorm helps dampen the panic I've been holding down, and soon enough the event is forgotten in favor my teleportation study. By the end of the week, I have Teleport Other down pat, and am fairly certain that teleporting myself is going to be no problem.

I skip another mall trip, opting instead for a day of relaxation. I receive a letter from my parents, and am so I excited I tear it open. It isn't anything special, of course. Just a typical letter, responding to what I'd written and filling me in on the simple things going on at home. It's little more than half a page, yet I'm grinning ear to ear when I finish, and set to writing back immediately.

And I have nothing but good things to say all around. Quite a big difference from how my week had started. It just seems to cement in my mind that having friends is a problem I don't need. Class and books made me happy, and I have all I want in a potential friend with Rivera, so why should I bother with the effort of making more when I could end up failing and getting hurt, like Manuel (who still has his depressed moments and speaks longingly of missing his one-week friend)? If Rivera and Manuel still want to hang out, fine. Otherwise, I'm on my own, and prefer it that way. Besides classes and my new club work, I don't need any more people in my life.

* * *

><p>On Thursday after class, Professor Grabiner announces that he will be holding a review session for the exam the next day.<p>

I wasn't aware there was going to be an exam.

I mean, it's obvious we have to be tested, but nobody had said anything about an exam coming up. I'm floored, and immediately signed up for the study session.

It's organized in a rather small room lined with cabinets and a few boxes. Obviously, this isn't a regularly used classroom—more like a large storage closet. There isn't a chalkboard, but Professor Grabiner notices Rivera poised beside me, ready to take notes, and gives us a nod before launching into the study session. Despite his comforting opening words (really, if it wasn't Professor Grabiner saying them, they would be encouraging), I can tell no one can concentrate with him for an instructor. His demeanor seems to discourage any form of relaxation and keeps the nervous freshman in a constant state of panic—which I find amusing and rather relaxing in it's own right.

Manuel is called on first, and he practically jumps in his seat. He gets the right answer, though, which makes me smile. I think Professor Grabiner notices that and decides to try and kill my good mood, because he taps on the back of my hand to have me answer next.

_Miss Wilson. What color of magic would you use to transform a lump of coal into a diamond?_

I perk up. Having studied Blue Magic all month, I know it's possible with that type of Magic, but I haven't learned to do it. "Blue, sir."

I'm right, and Professor Grabiner goes back to torturing other students.

The study session continues this way for quite a while, and I have to work to keep the grin off my face. Professor Grabiner _has_ to enjoy his job—he's just too good at making students miserable not to be doing it on purpose. He stops in the middle of a sentence at one point to give a boy detention. It's Donald Danson again. I wonder what he did to get detention. I hadn't noticed anything, but that doesn't mean much, as I was taking notes and still trying not to appear to be having any form of fun.

The night passes, and I head back to the dorms.

Hours after Rivera has gone to bed, I'm still awake, hiding under my covers with a Light spell going, pouring over my notes. I know I should be resting up for the exam, but Friday I'm taking the day off, so I can just rest all morning until test time. I feel wide awake, so I keep on studying. When I can't concentrate anymore I know I'm pushing my limits, and finally call it a night.

I wake up to Rivera at my bedside, shaking me lightly, eyes half-lidded and glazed over. I'm used to being woke up on the fly back home, so I roll out of bed before I'm even aware of why I'm getting up. Rivera waves grumpily at the door before falling back into her bed.

With the face of a zombie, I answer the door.

And am met with a face full of glitter. It takes several seconds to realize they are spelling out words.

_Joyous morning to you, Alexandra._

Okay, so I'm used to being woken up suddenly. What I'm not used to is people around me being chipper about it. When you get up at 5 am to help deliver a foal, no one is flowers and sunshine. You do what you have to and go back to bed. Seeing Professor Potsdam while I'm operating off of a still half asleep stupor is like sitting in a dark room and then having somebody shine a flashlight in your eyes.

So my reply might be an incoherent grunt.

She rambles on happily for a minute about our exam instructions, and I try to follow. At some point, two pieces of paper appear in my hands. Now how had these gotten here?

_I'm afraid there is one other thing._

I look up from staring at the pages, vaguely aware that Potsdam isn't being all Potsdam-y anymore. Her expression is more serious. Alarms bells sound in my head.

_You haven't been broadening your magical palette as much as you could be._

My ... palette? Does this have to do with breakfast?

_I know you're capable of more than this, Alexandra._

Capable of more what? What are we talking about? I haven't even had breakfast yet, why is she talking about eating more?

She's still talking. I try to focus. I catch the word detention in the air and suddenly I don't feel so tired anymore. I instantly blurt out, "I don't want detention!"

_Then I'm afraid I have no choice but to assign you ten demerits. You may receive more, depending on your performance during the exam. Please consider your choices carefully. I can't protect you from the consequences of your own actions._

She pauses then, like she expects me to say something. I stare at her, still not exactly sure what has just happened. What about the exam? I hadn't even known we were having an exam until yesterday!

My stunned silence is apparently answer enough, however, and suddenly Professor Potsdam is all smiles and dimples again. She says something about using my strengths and waves, prancing off.

I stare after her, frozen. A few minutes later, Rivera pokes her head out the door and finds me in the same position, unmoved. She passes me her notebook gently

It reads, _I have decided to make almond pancakes. Shall I make you some as well?_

From my spot in the hallway, I've been trying to sort out the morning's events. I've figured out that by my palette Professor Potsdam had been talking about the classes I have—or, more aptly, _haven't_—been taking. My lack of variety seems to be the root of my problem, which is ironic since her parting words had been to use my strengths. Mixed messages, anyone?

I shake my head and turn to Rivera, aware of having not responded yet. "Sorry. That was Professor Potsdam with our exam schedules. Here. And yes, I'd love some pancakes."

Rivera takes her schedule, eyes it without concern, and returns to the room without any more questions. I stand here a moment longer, grumbling to myself about how I _would _have studied more different types of Magic if I had _known_ an exam was coming up before _yesterday_. I glance down at my schedule, check what time my exam is, and then go back to my room to sleep the rest of the day. It's too late to try and learn a new Magic now, after all.

Rivera wakes me up when her pancakes are finished (evidence of her work is messily coating the room, but I have no idea how she's cooked them with no stove), and we spend our traditional quiet time together munching on them. They aren't bad, but I have the distinct feeling they don't have almonds in them. They taste like oranges. I don't question it.

I report to the testing room at the appointed time, rested and still slightly annoyed—and nervous. I've _already_ gotten ten demerits today, what will happen if Blue Magic isn't enough and I completely bomb this exam?

I knock, feeling queasy. The world around me going all fuzzy and junk doesn't help-

Wait ... that's not normal.

My surroundings right themselves after a few seconds, and I find myself in a stone room. Literally, everything is stone. Four stone walls, a stone ceiling overhead, a stone floor beneath my feet. Instantly, I have the urge to lay down on the floor. _I bet it feels gravely and cold ... _

But I have no chance to act on that odd desire as the same infuriating glitter-fog Professor Potsdam always uses materializes before me. _You are now in Dungeon Level One, Layout Five-B._

"Cool." I comment, my nervousness lightening. A dungeon. I love this school.

_The exit from this dungeon lies beyond the wall in front of you. There are no doors in your room. You must use magic in order to escape. Good luck._

"Okay, thank you."

No one replies. Guess that's my cue to get to work.

I grin, no longer nervous. And Professor Potsdam was worried about my exam performance. Blue Magic is the perfect solution to being trapped in a sealed room—just teleport out! That's how they'd gotten me in there in the first place, isn't it? It's true that I haven't actually practiced teleporting myself, but I can teleport other things and have done all the research—how different can it be? Just concentrate on myself instead of an object, and-

Huh.

That's all I have time to think before I come crashing down. Thankfully, I hadn't materialized that far from the ground, and land on my back in one of the flower beds out front of the school building. It knocks the air out of me momentarily, but I've fallen off of horses higher up than this, and the flowerbed is extremely soft, so I'm okay.

Being upside down when I'd first materialized had been pretty cool. I wonder why that had happened, though.

A shadow falls over me, obscuring what had been a nice view of the blue sky. It's Professor Grabiner—where did he come from?—and I'm surprised at his expression. There is absolutely no way around it, no matter how you try to deny it. He looks concerned. An angry, Professor Grabiner version of concerned, yes, but concerned none the less.

"Are you alright?"

He looks pretty good from this angle. The sun is back behind him, casting as shadow over his face, obscuring his age lines. Light finds it's way through his dark hair, emphasizing the waves. His eyes are a light milk chocolate, a color I rather like. It reminds me of ... _something_ ...

"Yeah, I'm good." I reply, smiling. I figure I should probably demonstrate this by climbing out of the school's flowers. I really hope I don't get in trouble for crushing them.

He looks exceedingly frustrated as he stands over me, like if he were the type to fret, he'd be doing so. Hoping it would help, I hold up my notebook (the last thing I want is Professor Grabiner taking to Professor Potsdam's method of glitter-fog).

He takes it with a sigh and writes.

_I had not expected you to be capable of a full-body teleport at this stage. I should have given you better safety instructions. My apologies, Miss Wilson._

Distracted, I stare from the paper up at him. Wow, Professor Grabiner is apologizing to me _again_? I might need to completely reevaluate my views of his personality.

"Well, that was actually the first time I'd really _done_ the teleport, which is probably why I'm out here and was all-" I point up, wiggling my finger, before going back to signing. "I probably should have practiced more first, but after all your classes I really thought I could handle it."

I realize how irresponsible that sounds only after I've said it. I think for sure Professor Grabiner will take that statement and run, chewing me out for being all around reckless, but to my surprise he doesn't even comment on it—instead, he proceeds to _praise_ me.

_Well, you have succeeded with distinction. Ten merits to you._

Dude. There is nothing I can say to that. And I've gotten my lost merits back! In your face, Potsdam!

_In future exams the dungeons will be warded to prevent exit by teleportation, so do not expect to replicate your success so easily._

Ah, there it is. Back to his usual self, shooting me down. I smile happily. "Yes sir, thank you, sir."

He looks at me oddly, obviously thinking my reaction is abnormal. But he's distracted after a moment and turns around to peer at a new arrival joining us.

Professor Potsdam, with her pointy hat and bouncing ginger locks, looks me up and down worriedly. After this morning, I'm not very excited to see her, but considering how very wrong I've just proved her, the feeling doesn't linger.

"Everything is fine." He says to her, and glancing at me again, I can already feel the dismissal coming on. He passes me the notebook back with a wave of his hand.

But I don't want to go. We were _almost_ having a conversation—a real conversation. I bet none of the other students have conversations with Professor Grabiner, and here I've almost had two of them in a month.

Professor Potsdam tsks and says something about not being rude, I think.

Professor Grabiner ignores her, walking away, and my potential conversation is lost. Over her shoulder, Professor Potsdam gives me a smile before following after him. A bit miffed at her stealing Professor Grabiner away, on top of this morning, I don't return the gesture. In fact, I kicks some of the unsmashed flowers as I leave.

I didn't get in trouble for trampling the flower bed, at , I return to my room, where I throw myself onto my bed in a childish huff. Rivera joins me not long after, looking oddly ruffled.

I push myself up. "How'd your test go?"

She puts her hands on her hips, nodding. "Oddly."

"How so?"

She pulls her notebook from her shoulder bag and sits beside me to write.

_I escaped the dungeon by magic. I received detention for my methods._

"Detention? What did you do?"

_I had the teacher teleport me out. She asserted that I gave up and deserve to fail. I assert that I used magic—which was not my own, but the rules did not say it had to be—to escape, just as required, and never said I was quitting or giving up._

"You ... _tricked_ your teacher?" I ask in awe, horrified.

Rivera raises her eyebrows. _It was not difficult. Her injured pride, however, prevents her from seeing the situation unbiasedly._

"Who was your instructor?"

_Potsdam._

Instantly, my horror vanishes, and instead I grin in camaraderie with my roommate. "High five."

She eyes me curiously before returning the gesture. _I saw no reason to use my own magic for such childish accomplishments._

"I don't think I've ever heard a test called a 'childish accomplishment.' You are gonna get yourself in trouble."

_Does not concern me._ She pauses, head cocking to the side. _Your aura is especially bright today._

"Uh, thank you?"

She smiles finally, placing an evaluative finger on her lips before scribbling away deviously. _I would like to perform a ritual for you. It could possibly set the room on fire._

"I'll ... move my valuables into the hall for a bit, okay?"

"Wise."

* * *

><p>Saturday, I skip the mall trip. Five dollars won't do me much good at the stores anyway, and I'm not feeling up to the crowded bus and streets and shops, anyway. So, I stash my allowance away and instead hit the library again. I enjoy myself and even manage to finish the book of runes I borrowed from Professor Grabiner.<p>

Sunday rolls around, and I spend it wandering the campus idly with no real destination in mind. I have decided to take the day off. It just seems like I'm _too_ into my studies lately, and despite the fact that that's just fine with me, it probably isn't a good thing. I don't really know what to do with myself on days off, but I'll figure it out. After all, my club is about to start taking over my empty Sundays, so this is really for the best.

Promising myself not to open a book for the rest of the day, I make a point of exploring the wooded areas on campus more, and end up taking a nap under the afternoon sun. I stay out late into the evening, admiring the navy sky and scattering of stars. I go to bed early again, falling asleep watching Rivera bleach a small pouch full of tiny bones.


	5. Campaign Work and Deadly Pancakes

**It's amazing how I sit down to write **_Losing the Wonder_** and end up with a new chapter for this instead. Huh. I also introduced my housemate to Magical Diary, and she spent most of the night playing (she's a Damien fan). Feels so nice to spread the love :) Anyway, Rivera once again steels the show by being hilariously interesting in the background as Lexie tries to deal with her antisocial issues - it's Election week, folks, and my story is finally starting to branch off from the game a bit! Hurray!**

**Also, I am not Deaf, but I'm doing a lot of research for this fic and I am learning ASL. If any Deaf readers want to correct me, please do! I went with Lexie being raised Hearing and predominantly Oral so that any mistakes I make are believably her ignorance on Deaf culture, having not been raised in it.**

* * *

><p>On Monday, fear of further disciplinary action on Potsdam's part has me heading to a brand new class, feeling nervous and lost and once again out of my element, just like when classes started a month ago. But once I step into the room, relief sweeps through me.<p>

Professor Grabiner is the teacher.

Letting off my pent up tension, I slip in and settle at my usual seat at the front of the room. It's in the same spot as in my other class. Maybe it's a different room, a different magic, a different time of day, but it's Professor Grabiner, and once again I feel as though I'm in my routine, comfortable; at home.

He doesn't disappoint, opening the class with his usual snark and arrogance, eloquence and captivating imagery, leaving me thirsting for the knowledge he possesses, starving for the unknown. His voice is fierce, his descriptions powerful, and I feel a turning inside me, watching, waiting. I was in love with Blue magic, but the more he speaks of Red, the more I know that there's so much more to the world of magic, and I want to discover it.

I look up from my notes to find Professor Grabiner has paused in his prowling of the room to look down on me. He speaks, and I glance at the board to see what he's saying.

_Decide after your first exam you had mastered all I had to offer in Blue magic?_

I grin.

"No, sir. I'm wish I could get back to Blue magic, but Professor Potsdam warned me I wasn't ... uh, 'expanding my palette' enough? So I decided to see what else you had to offer."

_I understand Professor Potsdam's concern_, he replies slowly. _While students are encouraged here to explore their interests and talents, a solid base in all studies is necessary for every magical citizen._

"I hadn't thought of that," I admit quietly, sinking my gaze back to my desk. "Makes sense though."

_Indeed. Once you have that base, however, a student is more than welcome to choose a magic to focus on and specialize in for their future magical careers. If you wish, you can move back to my Blue magic class once you have fulfilled your obligations in other studies._

I perk back up, encouraged by his words. He can apparently read it on my face, and heads me off before I can speak.

_Do not thank me again, Miss Wilson. Continue reading._

I'm still grinning when he strides off, and my good mood lasts the rest of the class, and even doubles when I return the book on magic runes to Professor Grabiner, as he seems mildly surprised that I've actually trudged through the entire volume.

Because I'm a late-comer to the class, I don't get to start practicing any actual spells until Wednesday rolls around, but again I find erratic scheduling is the rule, not the exception, and I'm not left behind, given no special treatment. I pour over my texts, fascinated by the magic my classmates cast around me, eager to catch up with them.

My first Red spell is to create a simple breeze, which brings unrivaled and completely pointless (as Professor Grabiner asserts) joy to me. I spend the rest of the afternoon up my tree doing nothing but making the leaves rattle. The consequences of my actions are felt heavily by nightfall, however, as I force my achy body along, magically drained and exhausted, back to my dorm to collapse in my bed. When I wake the next morning, there's a bag of what I initially think is potpourri by my head. After waking up a bit more, I recognize the bag as the one Rivera had bleached with the tiny animal bones inside. This time, it's filled with an assortment of herbs that smell very good to me, very soothing.

Rivera informs me, before we go to our separate classes (she's taking a different magic class each day, mixing them around, so it's hard to keep track of her studies) that it's meant to be rejuvenating.

On Friday, Manuel finds me up my tree again. "Sup, my fuzzy friend?"

He smiles, no sign of his Damien-induced depression. _Hey, Lexie. I was wondering if you would mind helping me with something?_

"What do you need?"

_I'm running for class treasurer_, he reveals a tad shyly, but with obvious pride. _I just let Professor Potsdam know, and she informed me that I'll have to work alongside Professor Grabiner during my campaign._

He holds the paper in front of his mouth nervously. Manuel has no love for my favorite teacher, our common experiences with the man having left opposing impressions. He takes a deep breath, then turns the pad back around to jot down his further thoughts.

_I was hoping you could help me. With the campaign, and ... with, well, working with Grabiner._

I let his statement, and what he's asking, sink in. An excuse to see, speak to, interact with—socially—the surly monarch?I practically float from the tree to the ground. "Heck yeah."

Manuel seems a bit surprised at my easy acceptance, but recovers quickly and is all smiles. _Thank you, Lexie! You're such a great friend._

... I am?

Rather floored, I watch Manuel leave (he turns back to wave several times as he goes, the cute little guy) without much reaction. He really thinks I'm a good friend? It feels good to hear someone say that to me. But it's weird as well, because a good friend is not something I think I am, especially considering my decision was based on "Cool, I get to hang out with Professor Grabiner" and not "I should totally help out my new buddy."

Trying not to let it bother me too much, I head back to my room, where, somehow, Rivera has procured frogs and is feeding them various potions she's concocting. Concerned for the health of the animals, thoughts of questionable friendship are displaced as I get roped into helping Rivera catalog her test results.

* * *

><p>Sunday Manuel surprises me by coming by the dorms. I'm holed up with my lesson plans for my soon to be starting club, distracted rather often by Rivera and all her interesting eccentricities, when she motions to the door (answering the door is my job alone, it seems, despite not being able to hear knocks). Apparently someone has sent him an apple pie, and he wishes to share. A great lover of all things apple, he is welcomed into the room without a single thought of propriety. Besides, Manuel's too cute for me to think about him that way, which I know is unfair on my part. Some people like their partners to be adorable; it's not my thing. Rivera doesn't seem to mind Manuel's presence, either, and he offers her a piece of pie, too, which she eats daintily, with poise.<p>

We laugh and talk and joke, spending most of the day together. After a while I start to feel cramped in this room with three people, but neither Rivera nor Manuel seem to require constant conversation, for which I am thankful, and we make it through just fine.

Oddly enough, Manuel appears again at our door early Monday morning, and I begin to wonder if this is going to be a regular thing now. Is this what friends do? I don't know how I feel about spending so much time together. I don't think about it for too long, however, as he pulls out a rather thick folder bulging with papers, labeled 'Election Protocol.'

"And so it begins," I say, taking the folder and laying it open on my desk. Manuel huddles up next to me.

_I hope I'm not bothering you. I know it's early, but Professor Grabiner just showed up at my door this morning and told me I had to read this thing and then see him after class!_

Poor kid looks and sounds shaken up by the encounter, and I have to hold back a grin. That sounds hilarious; I wish I could have seen it.

"Don't worry about it." I wave off his concern, flipping through the pages and glancing at headings. "Rivera sleeps like a rock until she's good and ready to get up, and I'm always up early. Now, let's see what all this thing has to tell us."

Skipping breakfast, we're both still pouring over the papers by the time we have to go to class. Promising not to leave him alone with Grabiner—that is, to meet him after class and go with to face his great fear—I head to my lesson.

When Manuel meets me at the door after class, I'm beaming. I'd spent the last period learning how to shove stuff with magic, and am in a great mood, more than willing to spend my spare time mediating between my nervous friend and my mentor.

We head to the conference room and, finding it empty, spend a bit more time going over the folder he'd been given. We've already been discussing ideas for his campaign, such as a name, slogan, finances, promotions, and speech topics. I jot them all down as we go, weighing pros and cons, and volunteer my own meager savings to help the cause, which he turns down. We only have a week before elections, so we have to move quick.

"Sure you want to do this? Early mornings, fund raising, lots of face time with your nemesis?" I tease.

He pouts, cute as a button. _He's not my nemesis. And yes, I'm sure. I like things like this, doing stuff for people, helping out. It'll be fun. I don't mind the work._

I smirk. "Just Professor Grabiner."

The door opens and Manuel jumps. The man in question steps in, looking as bored with life as ever. I try not to laugh at how pale Manuel has gone.

"Have you made your decisions?" He asks my skittish friend.

I answer instead. "Yes, sir. We believe so."

"'We?'" I hold up my notepad and he takes it with a sigh. _I was under the impression only Mr. Arias was running for this position._

"He is, sir. I'm just here to help ... organize his campaign, handle the details, secretarial work."

_Being Treasurer is secretary work. I hope you won't be doing Mr. Arias' job for him, Miss Wilson._

"No, sir."

"Good." He eyes Manuel and says something to him.

Manuel nods, wide eyed. "Yes, sir."

And suddenly I'm back in the conversation. _What have you discussed?_

"I wrote it all down, if you'd rather just have the paper ... " I pick it up, and he holds out a hand to take it.

"'Man of the Well.'" He doesn't seem to be able to help reading it aloud, and even though I can't hear it, I can see his distaste at the pun.

"Because he's Manuel."

Professor Grabiner stares at us, obviously unimpressed. I can't blame him. We'd slaved over a name and, in the end, couldn't think of anything good, so we went with a play on his name to make him easy to remember. Besides, he's a Toad; people expect weird.

After a few more moments of awkward silence, he apparently decides there's no use commenting and moves on. Manuel jots down what he says after a moment of me looking confused so that Professor Grabiner doesn't have to put the form down to write it himself.

_Marketing materials?_

"Posters and badges, sir. Slogan and emblem are also on there." I produce an envelope with our cash in it. We'd debated on cupcakes for a bit before both deciding it sent a bad message for a Treasurer candidate to splurge on sweets to buy votes.

Tucking the paper away, Professor Grabiner picks up the notebook again.

_They'll be delivered to Mr. Arias' room in the morning then. Unless Miss Wilson wishes to assume that responsibility as well._

I know a jibe when I hear one. "No, sir."

I wish that Manuel would defend himself and his campaign, but he stays quiet, looking miffed and intimidated. Thankfully for him, Professor Grabiner takes his leave after that.

"Not so bad, huh?"

Manuel sighs. _He thinks I'm a pushover, recruiting you to take over my campaign._

"Everyone has help with their campaigns," I counter. "Once we actually get you out there advertising, I'll stay behind the scenes and he'll see how on top of this you are."

"Maybe ... "

"Come on, let's go plan our week and work on your speech."

He nods.

"Hey, what did he say to you earlier?"

He thinks back for a moment, then writes, _He told me that taking advantage of my resources is a good strategy, just not to let you overstep your bounds._

I frown. "He could have told me that."

_I think that would defy the point of getting me to take control of my own campaign._

"Oh. That makes sense." With that, we pack up.

* * *

><p>The campaign materials arrive the next morning just like Professor Grabiner had said: six rather large posters emblazoned with "The Man of the Well—throw in your coins and make your wishes to Manuel Arias, Freshman class Treasurer," and a box of yellow paper circles with "Manuel for Treasurer" written in black around the edges to look like coins, with pins to attach them to robes. After class, we tape up the posters in areas that students are likely to stop at, like the quad, and then spend the rest of the day introducing Manuel around, passing out coin badges.<p>

Despite my good mood from yet another awesome Red magic class, by nightfall I'm exhausted. On the best of days I can only tolerate people for so long, and today pushed me way past my limit. I had to take several breaks, using various excuses, leaving Manuel to his work to escape and catch my breath. People talk about claustrophobia feeling like the walls are closing in, but that's exactly what it feels like when I stick to a crowd too long. The air becomes pressure, the sky bows, and even the smallest sounds pound in your ears until you feel tiny and crushed.

Manuel didn't seem to mind the constant attention, however, and I found that observing from a distance worked just find. The kid's likable, with a positive disposition and eager-to-please attitude; he gives off an air of trustworthiness, like an adoring kid-brother.

That thought doesn't help my sinking mood. I'm suddenly remembering my own sibling, a little over eight years my junior, tiny but sporty, already working on her muscle training at half my age. Tess spends most of her time running around the farm, working chores she wasn't supposed to and driving Dad crazy with worry. She's active, thoughtful, and a bit of a prankster, but a hard worker and a sweet sister.

I miss my family. Yes, I'm getting used to school, making friends, loving my classes, and finding my routine, but sometimes I can still imagine my farm out across the field, my sister brushing the horses and bringing water when we're working, my dad at the plow late into the night and then watching us with his quiet smiles while he fights off sleep, my mom covered in dirt and smiling brightly, arranging flower pots and hanging baskets all around the house. Long mornings mucking out stalls while the horses run in the field, far from me and my fears; boxing and sorting our crops during harvest time from the back of Dad's truck, watching him while he works.

I feel sick as I lay down tonight, and wake the next morning to find Rivera has once again set a bag of herbs on my pillow to 'rejuvenate' me. It makes me smile a bit, and I feel better once I'm back in class.

Wednesday calls for hard work in the quad once again as all the candidates from every year set up shop to win over the love of the student body. I discover very quickly that I'm not going to be able to stay beside my new friend through this chaos of human interaction, and bow out once Manuel has gotten into his groove. He doesn't seem to mind much; I'm more his Grabiner-shield than anything, and we already have our campaigning strategy down, so there's nothing to worry about. Excused, I flee.

* * *

><p>Friday is election day, so I force myself to remain calm and rim the crowd mingling in the gym. It's rather hard to find a spot up close to the stage but still far enough to keep me calm. Rivera's in the lead, parting the crowd and pushing people out of the way when I need it, as serene as a koi fish pond. Thankfully, the gym's occupants have thinned out as non-Freshman don't have to stick around for the Freshman election, which is the last election of the day.<p>

Things move rather quickly. A beautiful Butterfly girl—the same one that had signed up for my club—steps up to run for President, confident and cheerful, obviously the favorite of the crowd. She seems nice enough, and honest, so I clap softly when she steps down. A girl I recognize from my own hall is up next. I have pegged her for someone with albinism at first glance; she reminds me painfully of those fluffy white rabbits with pink eyes. Her speech makes absolutely no sense unless you're a hippie looking for subtext, which I enjoy thoroughly, and I give her a hearty applause despite the rather muted reactions of my classmates.

Next up is Treasurer campaigns, and some Falcon boy exuding arrogance gives a speech dripping with foolhardy confidence that has me gagging while the crowd cheers. This is why I hate people.

Manuel then takes his turn. Sadly, he's much too soft spoken; I wouldn't be able to follow his speech if I didn't already know it word for word, having helped write it. Rivera holds her notebook to her chest with both hands in a pose that looks oddly relaxed, apparently enjoying the lull in her recording of everything going on for me. Manuel's as adorable as ever, and likable enough. The crowd claps politely when he finishes, and I let out a deep breath.

The voting time finally arrives, and we all filed down a hallway to a classroom to cast our ballots. I vote to Suki Sato, the odd Snake girl, for President on principle. She isn't going to win, but she deserves a friendly vote. Then I put in my ballot for Manuel and head back to the gym to wait in suspense.

_He has a soft aura,_ Rivera comments whimsically beside me. _But a powerful one. I believe his influence over lesser minds is great._

"You think he's gonna win?"

_Yes. I have already prepared a victory dinner for celebration._

"Really?"

_Yes. Pancakes._

"Almond again?"

_No. I used a mixture of pumpkin puree and spices with choice selections of purified cock blood in the raspberry syrup._

" ... Is that even healthy?"

"Shh. It's starting."

The announcements go by just as quickly as the speeches and voting have. Potsdam stands before the crowd and announces in her infinitely annoying way that, just as Rivera had predicted, Manuel has won Treasurer and Minnie Cochran, the Butterfly girl, is President.

Rivera nods sagely. _I shall add your hairs to the syrup to tie you to his success._

And with that, she wanders off.

"Lexie, I won!" Manuel races up to me once students start to file out, bouncing with happiness.

"Course you did," I reply coolly. "Rivera and I never doubted you would. She even made pancakes to celebrate."

"Really?"

"Yep. Just don't use the syrup, okay?"

"Huh? Why not?"

"Trust me."

" ... Okay? Anyway, um ... " He rattles on for a minute before suddenly seeming to remember he talking to a deaf person. He fumbles with his notepad for a minute, beat red. _Pancakes will have to wait, I gotta go talk to Grabiner first._

"Want me to come with?"

He pauses for a moment, then steals himself. _No, it shouldn't take but a minute, they said. I got this. Meet back at your room?_

"Sure thing, Mr. Treasurer."

He grins, then takes off, and I head back to the room to see if I can't throw out Rivera's syrup before she tries to poison us with it. Manuel joins us soon after, as promised, baring a small set of keys on a key chain and instructions for his first morning of duties at 5am, which we were both well aware of, having read the pamphlet. I agree to meet him, an ever diligent assistant, to ease him into his duties and help him out on his first day. That settled, we dig into Rivera's pancakes (which are not pumpkin flavored like she said, but something decidedly citrus again), having safely disposed of her syrup.

* * *

><p>The Treasurer work is easy, despite Manuel's sleepy eyes and constant yawns; he obviously isn't used to being up so early. For me, however, it's nothing new, and we have the mail sorted and delivered, allowances included, rather quickly, and go our separate ways, having spent far enough time together over the course of the week.<p>

I spend my Saturday doing what I do best: hiding up a tree, avoiding people, buried in a book. The library's selection isn't extensive, but what it does have is interesting to the thirsty mind. I devour magical history, trying to wrap my head around some of the events, tying them to the history I'm used to. It goes over my head for the most part; I'm gonna need charts for all that information. So I give it up for other pursuits, determined to enjoy a day all to myself.

Mostly because I know what was coming.

Sunday marks the first meeting of my new club. Enthusiastic I am not, but I assemble my small band of studious comrades in the classroom I had acquired for us and we all settle around a table in the center.

The first thing I do is forbid everyone but myself from speaking out loud. Then I have them stand at the board and introduce themselves in writing and explain why the club has drawn their interest. Minnie Cochran, Freshman Class President, has a predictable answer.

_Sign Language is another way to communicate with people, to expand my circle of friends. I think it's a great opportunity to be a part of something bigger than myself, you know? I've always wanted to learn another language, and learning to sign seems very practical since it's not a language I'd have to travel far to be exposed to—the Deaf community is a part of every culture, so I should get acquainted with the one in mine._

It's a much longer answer than I had anticipated. It takes up half the board with it's bubbly, girlish script.

"Um." Minnie looks at me expectantly and I frown. "I was raised Hearing. I took sign language classes and everything, but I wasn't really a part of the Deaf community. I can't tell you much about it, honestly."

"Oh." Disappointment doesn't keep Minnie down long and she whirls back to the board. _That's okay. Knowing the language is the first step. I'm still excited to learn it._

The Wolf boy is seated beside Minnie, and he smiles at her. Introducing himself as Kyo Katsura, he writes what basically amounts to "what she said." Obviously, he'd have joined anything Minnie did. I try not to let that bother me.

Barbara Solmoro is our other member, the Snake. She informs us dispassionately that she has no reason to disclose why she has an interest in American Sign Language and refuses to write anything else.

Rivera simply states she ought to be able to talk to her spirit sister in her own language.

Manuel expresses much the same intent (though he uses a more common word, 'friend').

We all sit in the silence then. I swallow.

"So, I'll be teaching you all Signing Exact English, or SEE, to start with. It's a more exact signing of the English language, as opposed to ASL—American Sign Language. Pidgin Signed English is kind of a compromise between SEE and ASL but since ASL has a different grammatical structure it's a bit harder to sign and talk at the same time, so I figure SEE will be easier and then we'll move into PSE—er, Pidgin—and then to ASL. ASL is more common from what I understand and it's what I prefer, but I thought this would be easier since you're all Hearing native English speakers and don't actually need to Sign with any deaf people at this point. Does that sound alright? I hope I'm explaining this right ... "

"Wait." Barbara folds her arms across her chest, brows furrowed. It's the movement that draws my attention, and I realize she's speaking. I shake my head at her and point to the board. She steps back up. _There's more than one sign language?_

I nod slowly. "There's a signed version for most if not all languages around the world. I mean, deaf people exist everywhere, so they'd naturally develop a language where ever they are. ASL is that for America, while SEE is just English turned into a signed language. ... as far as I can tell."

Manuel leans forward, wide eyed, and hops up. _So there's a Spanish version, too? Or a Spanish sign language, I mean, for Mexico._

"Yeah. I don't know it though." I give him a sorry shrug, but he shakes his head.

_That's okay. It's cool to know, though. I might look into it when I go home._

_So we'll be learning all three of those?_ Minnie asks.

"Maybe." I turn to her. "I'm hoping using PSE as a bridge makes it easier, as PSE uses SEE's syntax with ASL's vocab. Well, let's go ahead and start with the basic alphabet."

Kyo and I turn out to be the only lefties, and I have to explain that they all should be using their dominant hand, not just trying to mimic me. They still aren't really used to the positions they are trying to put their fingers in at time, and the signs are stiff and awkward. A few letters seem too similar to Barbara, and she requires me to specifically show her the differences several times. She still mixes several up. No one is very fast.

That's okay. I don't expect everyone to get the whole alphabet on the first day.

Looking around, seeing all of these other kids just _trying _to use my language, keeps me from talking much the rest of the meeting. By preferring to sign and use body language, no one notices the tightness in my throat.

* * *

><p>As I sit down to my journal after we finish up and head back to our rooms, and then my letter home, I have a very exciting and fulfilling week to write about.<p> 


End file.
